


The Rhyme and Reason for Rhetoric

by momothespicy (momothesweet)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Inexperienced Reader, Light Angst, Reader-Insert, Self-Esteem Issues, Sex and Chocolate, Smut, Tattoos, Tongue Piercings, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Whipped Cream, punk!Kuroo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothespicy
Summary: He's a punk who needs a tutor. You're a fanfiction-reading nerd. You know how the rest goes.Part One: Fall - completePart Two: Spring - in progress!





	1. Main Event

**Author's Note:**

> Is there such thing as breaking fourth walls in writing? Is there a word for that? Fanfic-ception?
> 
> There's a lot I want to say about this fic. I almost want to write a separate post about it, but for now, let me leave it at this: these last few months have been very hard for me, and to sort of cope and vent all the loneliness and self-deprecation that's been plaguing my head, I spilled it out and wrote this. An overdramatic, artistic interpretation, I suppose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very special thanks to the one and only [Barkly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkly/pseuds/Barkly) for beta reading. If you don't know her by now then I suggest you love yourself and go read her stuff.

Surprisingly, Kuroo’s dorm is neat.

Sure, his side of the room is decked out in experimental art you don’t understand and posters of bands you don’t know, but there’s something comfortable about it. Maybe it’s the candles on his little nightstand or how soft his dark sheets look. You’re not sure.

What you’re sure of, though, is that these last few months have been nothing short of...well, strange. What started out as a tutoring gig for you turned into that sort of relationship you always see in teenage romantic comedies and cliché fanfiction. You definitely don’t have a ton of piercings wrapping around the shell of your ear or tattoos to show off. Hell, you barely even want to show yourself off with how self-conscious you feel about your body. Your glasses are as thick as your thighs and no matter what you do to your hair, it never comes out like you want it to.

Somehow, Kuroo doesn’t give a damn about any of that. All of those Tumblr posts and celebrities and YouTube vloggers’ saying the same thing about beauty and loving yourself have started to become easier to believe once he stepped into your life. And though it’s still very hard for you to accept that you’re _not_ this ugly potato in massive amounts of student debt, you’re very slowly getting there thanks to him.

What’s even more disconcerting is that Kuroo can have literally _any_ person on campus to date. For one, he’s hot. The guy looks like every person’s bad boy fantasy. Along with his piercings and his tattoos that run down the entirety of his right arm, he’s got untamed dark hair and a smile that’ll break hearts and drop panties. Beneath all that is an intellect you’ve only encountered in asshats. Except he isn’t an asshat. While he’s not the brightest in math, and that’s the whole reason why you’re wrapped up in this whole deal, he has an uncanny knack for biology, an actual appreciation for art, and the ability to interpret literature as well as, if not better, than an actual literature major. You don’t know why he hasn’t declared a major when he can easily pick between a few different concentrations. You also (still) don’t know why he’s taken a liking to you, no matter what he says or how he tries to convince you that you’re beautiful.

Just thinking about the word makes your chest tight, like it’s some word that’s been poisoned over the years of self-deprecation and emotional slaughter thanks to the people that were around you for so long. Some of them still happen to occupy the recesses of your brain and you don’t like it.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” you hear a voice pipe up from behind you. You turn on your heel to find Kuroo already setting his things down at his desk, flipping his textbook open to the right page you marked for him with a sticky note in the shape of a dog (which, you’ve learned, is his favorite animal). The smile and sincere gaze he gives you make your cheeks brighten as much as they did back when you first met him.

“How do you know?” you ask quickly, unable to find any other words to form some witty comeback.

“You do that thing where you stare into nothing for a weird amount of time and stand like a zombie,” he replies, then tips his chin towards the bed. “You can have the bed. I’ll ask you for help when I need it.”

“Right. Okay.”

You set your things down at the foot of his bed and pull out your tablet and stylus. Lucky for you, you’ve only got a few more readings to mark up and you’ll be prepared for next week’s classes. Not going out very much (or at all) gives you the benefit of getting work done way ahead of time. Hanging out with Kuroo, though, has changed that a little. It’s not a bad change. Now you know that he likes sweet curry and you’re pretty good at the retro games in the arcade across from campus. On weekends like this, you also now know that there’s a cute little coffee shop near the school library where you and Kuroo can get work done. It usually closes up shop early on weekends, so you two usually opt for going to your dorm to finish up anything else.

This is the first time you’ve been to Kuroo’s dorm.

You’re not sure why you haven’t agreed to come any sooner. Maybe you think he’s gotten tired of seeing your roommate every time you both come into your room? Or because it’s finally hit you that he _isn’t_ going to hold you captive in this minuscule space and deprive you of everything you need to survive? Or is it because you think he’s self-conscious about how he decorates his side of the room and it’s only taken him a few months to clean it so you don’t peg him for being a slob?

“You’re doing it again,” Kuroo says.

In the midst of all your thinking, you’ve managed to slip your shoes off and lie comfortably on your stomach, facing the end of the bed and being closer to Kuroo at his desk. He frowns and reaches out to hook a finger around yours that hangs over the edge.

“You okay?” he asks. “Did I invite you to my room too soon?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine.”

“You’re not thinking stupid shit about yourself again, are you?”

By that, he means all the times you deny your worth and appearance. You shake your head again. “Just a lot of things on my mind, I guess.”

Kuroo understands what you mean and he doesn’t press the issue, nodding and mentioning an “I’m right here” before turning back around to get back to his work. That’s another thing you really like about him; of all the people you’ve met and befriended, he seems to be the only one who gets that you can’t just force yourself to be happier. It’s not going to take one or two or even ten dates to “transform” you into a happy, fully-functional, thriving person. It doesn’t even work that way, anyway. As much as you’d like to wake up one day loving your body and confident about all the decisions you make, those thoughts are just as much of a fantasy as fairy tales are. Right now, you don’t dwell on those thoughts. You’re several pages deep into your notes, highlighting points that seem important or drawing out something that’ll give you a better idea of whatever you’re supposed to learn.

The silence between the two of you isn’t uncomfortable at all. In fact, you like that you can work with Kuroo without having to hold a conversation every two minutes. That tends to happen when you’re around your friends and then you all won’t stop complaining about classes and parking and everything in between. He’s only asked you one question in the last twenty minutes, which means he’s getting whatever you reviewed with him earlier today in the coffee shop. You’re on your last page of notes when he calls your name again. You dutifully rise up from the bed and stand close to his side, holding onto the back of his chair while you lean forward and take a look at the problem he’s working on.

Something tells you by the twitch of his fingers that he wants to put his arm around you because you’re already standing so close to his side, but he stops himself because he doesn’t want to break any boundaries or make you uncomfortable with his touch. Instead, he taps the problem in the textbook with his pencil.

“It’s another word problem,” he groans. “I think I underlined the relevant stuff, but I don’t know if I’m approaching this correctly.”

You read through the problem twice and walk him through it slowly, explaining what he did right and if he missed any steps along the way. Overall, he’s got the idea, and a few erasures and scribbles later, he gets the right answer.

“Good job,” you say with a smile, ready to hop back into his bed.

He tugs the end of your sweater this time and smiles back. “I couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”

It’s like you mentally revert to an actual baby whenever you hear him call you that. Nobody’s ever given you a pet name before and you can’t help but adore it when he replaces your name with that. Or kitten. He likes that name for you, too.

More time passes and you’ve resorted to leisure reading after finishing up your notes, nice and colorful and ready to go over once you go to lecture next week. Your favorite fanfic updated and of course you want to jump right in and read the new chapter of non-canonical goodness. Every several pages or so, you look up at Kuroo, who seems to be finishing up his work, as well.

And he does, shutting his textbook and stretching far beyond his chair with a very relieved sigh. His hoodie rides up and you spot another tattoo you’ve never seen before peeking out on his side. Your cheeks start to heat again and you immediately go back to the page you’ve been stuck on since watching him complete his work.

That’s another thing that you don’t quite understand. As someone who’s grown up with every sort of conventionally “unlikeable” feature, of course you’re as innocent as a nun in a convent in the middle of nowhere.

(That’s an exaggeration).

Besides the late night adventures reading smutty stories and turning your tablet sideways to wonder how some people get in those positions they do in those videos, nobody’s laid a hand on you other than yourself. And here you are with a guy you _know_ has experience and at the same time treats you like how you should have been treated over the years of teenage angst and complete bullshit. This can’t be real, especially when you don’t feel tense or scared being alone with him. It all feels natural.

You finally tap your screen to flip the page and Kuroo jumps over to lie next to you in bed. Looking over, you smile at him, reaching for his hand to hold. You’ve grown confident enough to do that, at least.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asks.

“It’s...uh, fanfiction,” you say. He knows you read it but it’s still weird to say it out loud.

“Oho? Is it all lemony?”

You scrunch your face and nudge his shoulder, shaking your head. “Don’t call it that. And no, it’s not. It’s fluff.”

“That’s the romantic gooey stuff, right? Kisses and cuddling?”

You nod. It’s seriously unbelievable how he remembers all those terms you mumbled out for him one night but not the rules of derivation you reviewed with him about a million times.

“You know you can do that stuff with me, right?”

“But it’s always fun reading it between your favorite characters,” you counter. It takes Kuroo a second to think of a response. Kudos to you for getting him speechless for that little amount of time while talking to him.

“So who am I in your hundred-thousand-word novel?”

Good question. So good, it makes you turn off your tablet and set it down on the floor so you can completely pay attention to him. It’s not often that you do that for boys. You’re ready to say your answer to him but he seems to know it already, playing with your fingers in his and letting them creep up your sweater. You giggle.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

There’s that word again that makes your stomach turn in some complicated battle of feelings. You turn your head away and smile, because it naturally sounds amazing coming from a guy like him, but at the same time, it breaks down in your head and turns into some puzzle of questions and doubts that is impossible to solve. That natural comfort you were reeling in earlier when you were both getting work done turns into something unsettling, something that makes you think that maybe he’s been waiting for this moment so he can sleep with you and win whatever bet he has with his other asshole friend. The longer you think about it, the more you want to cry and bolt out the door so you can go back to your life of solitude and mediocrity.

You hear your name, followed by “baby.”

The hand on your arm is soft, gently squeezing you over the fabric. When you have the courage to look at him, Kuroo’s frowning, eyes wide and trained on you. He says your name again.

“Hm,” you answer dryly.

He approaches his next few words carefully since he knows how fragile you are and that there are more subjects than none that teeter between touchy and totally off-limits. You appreciate him for that.

“What do you think about when I call you that?”

Silence. You can’t bear to look at him when you think about the question, how it settles in your brain and how he really wants to know the mechanism of your discomfort. So you tell him. You tell him your thought process that happens in seconds, how it feels like you don’t believe him and all your stupid theories as to how dating you is basically a joke. The more you speak, the more it sounds ridiculous. Kuroo stops you when he shushes you gently, wiping away the tears that rolled down your cheeks. You didn’t even notice.

“Baby, name two friends of yours.”

You raise an eyebrow, but you tell him. It’s also a nice reminder to text one of them about that fanfiction update since they like that author, too.

“Okay. And your cat you have back home?”

You tell him that, too. “But you already know about my cat. Where are you going with this?”

“Just wait a sec. What’s my name?”

You roll your eyes. “Kuroo Tetsurou?”

“Good. You know what we all have in common?”

You don’t even try to think and you shrug. “No.”

“We _all_ think you’re beautiful. And it’s not just in that way you’re thinking. I know you’re gonna hang out with your friends tomorrow because you’re cool and when you go home in the winter your cat’s gonna go nuts because you’re, like, the best owner ever.”

The effort he’s putting into his reasoning is flawless, you can’t help but give him a tiny smile. “What about you?”

He smiles with a huff, shifting to sit up on his bed and taking you with him so you can sit cross-legged and hold his hands. Your knees bump against each other as he continues to speak, “As for me, I’m gonna keep dating you and holding your hands and making you feel better about yourself because that’s what you deserve. Because nobody ever deserves to feel like shit over nothing.”

You and Kuroo have had these conversations before. They were never extensive, but he always brings it to a point that you are indeed a pretty girl in more ways than one and that you’re more than deserving to have people notice that. Sometimes his words go right through your head. Other times, like these, they fight off and replace the negative words that plague it. It’s temporary, but the effects are so much more warming and rejuvenating than hating yourself for most of the time.

“I know you don’t like talking about it,” he continues to your surprise, “but you know I like how you look now. You’re not just that ‘beauty-on-the-inside’ kind of girl, y’know? Thought I should mention that before you do.”

He’s right about that. “It’s like you know me better than I know me,” you retort.

Kuroo shrugs. “It’s true, though. If you let me, I’ll put my hands all over you and make you feel even better.”

The thought makes your face flush beet red, your hands tightening in his while your heart stops beating and your skin goes clammy like you’re touching death directly. Kuroo laughs quietly, letting go of you so he can bring you in by the cheeks to kiss your nose.

“Sorry. Was that too blunt?”

“A little,” you admit, “but I can’t say that I haven’t thought about it before.”

Now _he’s_ blushing and you bite your lip, dropping his hands to toy with your fingers in your lap and shifting uncomfortably in your sitting position, mostly because you don’t like sitting like this rather than because of what he said. Either way, you hop on his bed to sit on your knees and lean forward, getting his hands on his shoulders and pushing him gently back against the wall right against his bed. He looks up at you expectantly, chewing his bottom lip and playing with the little silver stud in his tongue, amused.

“Whatcha up to now, kitten? Wanna play?”

You think about his words for a moment. Like, actually think about it. There’s no denying that you definitely want to “play,” but given your complete lack of experience and the pep talk you two just had that hit your nerves in some deep, profound way, you might want to put it on hold. The other part of you, though, wants to get through it and just _know_ what it feels like because Kuroo is no doubt a special person in your life and you don’t think you’d want to lose your virginity to anyone else. Looking back down at him, you see that he’s waiting patiently for your answer, and you know that he’s willing to do whatever will make you comfortable because that’s Kuroo Tetsurou for you and there’s no time to wonder for the millionth time as to why he’s so perfect.

“Um,” you start, not as wonderfully as you planned it in your head but it is what it is, “I do. I do want to play.”

A little mix of surprise and excitement washes over his face, eyebrows turning up and eyes widening when you give him a green light. He grins and places his hands on your hips, pulling you down slowly so that you’re level with him and you’re oh-so-close to sitting on his lap. “Really now? Finally want to take a ride on the Kuroo train?”

You snort and slap his shoulder. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Hey, just trying to lighten the mood,” he snickers, encouraging you to relax on him. You finally give in and sit on his lap in spite of your fears of crushing his legs with your weight. “What exactly do you want to do?”

“I, uh…” you say slowly, gaze growing sheepish, “I don’t want to go ‘all the way’ yet, I guess. I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

He nods understandingly and places his palms on your back, rubbing away the tension and pushing you closer to his chest. “That’s okay. You know there are other ways for me to make you feel good, right?”

“Mhm.” There you go blushing again. It’s weird saying stuff like this out loud. It’s weirder when Kuroo knows that you know what else he can do to get you off besides shoving his dick in you a countless amount of times. Based on all the fanfiction you read, there’s a laundry list of things in which you can just pick and choose to make you come by someone else’s touch for the first time.

When you don’t answer him, he comes up with his own suggestion, running his fingers through the ends of your hair before speaking, “I have an idea. Want me to tell you?”

He drops his voice to a whisper and very lightly takes your chin in his thumb and index finger, “But it’s a secret. I gotta tell it to you in your ear.”

Playing along (it’s a little cheesy in your opinion but cute), you nod again, following his movements and turning your head slightly so that his lips graze the shell of your ear. For whatever reason, _that_ already feels pretty sexy, and it makes you shudder even before he tells you his “secret.”

Which is already enough to make you moan like...well. A virgin.

“How about you let me use my fingers on you first?” he suggests. “I want to play with your pussy and tell you all the dirty things I want to do to you. Would you like that, kitten?”

It takes some supernatural entity to keep you from nodding frantically and begging like a little girl. This is your first time, after all. You don’t want to look _too_ inexperienced. Not that Kuroo would care. You manage an “mhm” before he brings you back to face him.

“I thought you would. Kiss me.”

There’s no point in saying no to that. You more than enthusiastically press your lips against his, holding on steadily to his shoulders while he holds onto your hips. His kisses never fail to take your breath away, each little push of his lips hotter than the last. Thanks to date nights in and sneaky little places to hide between classes, you’ve gained substantial experience in the art of kissing. But it’s always Kuroo who leads, gets you comfortable and relaxed and warm enough so you can part your lips and invite his tongue in your mouth.

By then, you’re already lying on your back in his bed, the softness dipping you deeper along with his kiss that makes your tongue do funny things with his. Okay, so that substantial experience may have bumped you from novice to beginner, but it seems to come naturally when he helps you lose yourself and forget all those self-destructive mean thoughts. It also helps greatly that that tongue piercing is insanely hot and brings a very different sensation that will one day have you pulling all of your clothes off for him.

With one very subtle suck coming from him, you let out a moan that travels down Kuroo’s throat. He pulls away and grins, shifting to lie on his side flush against you as he tucks his arm under your back so he can hold you. His free hand plays with the hem of your sweater again. Now you start to feel your heart beat faster.

“Just let me know if you don’t want to do this anymore,” he reminds you. “I want this to be good for the two of us, not just me or just you.”

“Okay,” you agree. “So...do you just…”

He laughs softly and catches you in another kiss, gently biting your lower lip when he pulls away and holds onto your sweater tighter. “Do you want me to touch you anywhere else before we get to the main event?”

“Jeez, Kuroo,” you huff, unable to help yourself from laughing as well, “this is supposed to be hot. Aren’t you supposed to, like, just ‘do’ it?”

“That’s an option. But I don’t want to make you feel weird for your first time.”

“It’s weird when you call my vagina the main event,” you deadpan.

“But it is, isn’t it?”

The two of you laugh again, foreheads bumping into each other. You also take his hand on your sweater, pushing up the hoodie to reveal a sleeve that depicts shiny koi fish and tall bamboo shoots. In the midst of the chuckles and kisses and the “you’re so dorky” type of quips, you drift his hand lower to your leggings just under your sweater that hides all the stuff you hate about yourself.

“Hey,” you say after your fit of fluff, “just...do your thing, then. Make me feel good, Kuroo.”

He lowers his voice and nods, giving you one last kiss before letting go of your hold and sticking his thumb right under your leggings. “I’ll be sure to do just that, kitten. May I?”

Once you give the okay, his hand slips right under, palm on your pelvis and fingers right over your panties. You’re glad you’re doing this clothed because you didn’t manage to wear anything remotely cute for him. Your legs part a little more so that his fingers now have some room to explore the valley between your legs. Doing your best to keep your breath steady, you run a hand through his messy hair, pushing it out of the way so you can see his face while he looks at you, eyes dreamy and gentle.

“Already wet, baby?” he asks as he taps a damp spot on your panties with his middle finger. “You’re going to ruin my sheets by the time I’m done with you.”

It’s like he’s taken your voice out and replaced it with all the sounds you used to only make when you were alone in your dorm room. He takes his time getting you wetter, petting over your panties with his middle finger until you can feel that they’ve definitely soaked through. He gives you a kiss to calm you down and when you start to squirm, gripping his hair a teeny bit tighter.

With your permission, he gets his hands under your panties to feel you directly. You want to curse yourself for not shaving but Kuroo clearly does not care when you hear him moan for the first time. You almost miss it because you moan too, right when you feel his fingers explore wet folds of sensitive skin and muscle.

“Does that feel good?” he asks. “It feels good for me.”

A short shift and Kuroo’s pressed closer to you so you can feel the bulge in his pants up against your thigh. “Kuroo,” you sigh.

He says your name back at you when he puts two fingers over your clit to rub very slowly, just like you do when you touch yourself. “Baby, you can’t imagine all the things I want to do to you. I want you naked as the day you were born and put my mouth on every part of your body.”

You tilt your head to one side when he goes for your neck, continuing to rub you slowly into a heated arousal that makes you clench the sheets with one hand and his shoulder with the other. Kuroo gently nips your skin and shows that he likes the way you let out a little yelp by snickering. He apologetically licks his little mark and gives it a little kiss, moving his fingers a notch faster. The hand around you just barely grazes the side of your chest, considerably curvy and full.

“I want to play with your tits,” he continues, “I bet they’ll feel so good in my hands and you won’t stop saying my name when I squeeze them.”

Your breaths grow heavy and your skin tingles with every syllable Kuroo utters. You knew he had a sailor mouth from all the swearing he does when he either gets frustrated over a word problem or when he hangs out with his other friends, but you had _no_ idea that he’d be a hell of a dirty talker. Your pussy pulses with even more wetness, more need to have him do more to you.

He’s about to fulfill your request when he prods his middle finger over your opening, but he pauses and blinks to look at you for confirmation. “May I?”

“God, Kuroo, please,” you say, nodding and hiding your face in his arm and muffling your words, “finger me.”

“Ooh, such naughty words from my little kitten,” Kuroo grins, then very slowly pushes his middle finger inside of you. Contrary to what all the other girls say, it doesn’t hurt when he goes this slow and when you’re that wet. In fact, it’s not painful at all. It’s fucking phenomenal. “I wonder what else you’re able to say once I stretch your pussy open.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, arching slightly at his finger, longer and a little thicker than yours, pushing in and out of you. “Feels good, Kuroo. Oh god, yes.”

“Yeah? Is this what you do when you think about me?” he asks, leaning in to purr in your ear, “I know you do, kitten. You traded reading all that dirty fanfiction for your nasty little fantasies about me. What am I doing in them, huh? Am I eating you out?”

You’re halfway between being sucked into another world and listening to Kuroo talk his way to your orgasm. Nodding at his questions, it takes you half a mind and a second finger inside you to start talking. His more eager fingers hit deep, discovering spots you’ve never touched before in time with your thoughts jumbling together for some sort of answer.

“Wanna know what your tongue feels like,” you whine, “want you to taste me—”

“Ooh.” Kuroo licks his lips and flashes his tongue piercing, licking the air close to your lips and you swear you could come right then and there. “Then I won’t disappoint when I shove my head between your legs. You probably taste so fucking delicious. What else do you think about?”

A few breaths and a tiny curl of his fingers and you cry out his name again. You’re about to breathe some poor derivative of what you’ve been wanting to do with him since he’s wormed his way into your head. For the record, it didn’t take very long with those looks and that demeanor. Your breath is interrupted when Kuroo takes the words right out of your heated head.

“You think about my cock, don’t you? Of course you think about it. Because I think about your pussy when I jack off to you at night. How it feels, how it tastes...how sensitive it’ll be when I finally pound you into my mattress and make everyone on this floor know that you’re _my_ girlfriend. _Mine_.”

Your moans are drowning out your thoughts of how he’s emphasizing that one relationship-y word. Never in your life did you think your first real boyfriend would turn out to be a dirty-talking, smartass punk who sees not right through your flaws, but tries to make sense out of them. And not only that, he’s obviously _proud_ to call you his, to present to you this societal label that’s supposed to inform everyone, including you sometimes, that you’re both romantically connected and figuring out the challenges of life together.

None of those words mean a fucking thing when Kuroo’s curling his fingers just right and making an effort to get you to make even more noise than what you’re doing now. His thumb works your clit with more pressure, tighter circles and rubs to knock you out of this planet. “Kuroo,” you cry, “Kuroo, oh god I want you, I need you—”

“I know you do, baby,” Kuroo grins, a slight twitch in hips that you barely catch. He’s more than likely painfully hard at this point. “Come for me. Let me feel it on my fingers.”

Kuroo presses that sweet spot in your pussy one last time and that’s game. Your legs thrash against him embarrassingly, coming on his fingers and reaching down to clench his wrist with both hands, as if locking his hand in you while thrusting into it and moaning like mad. It’s an orgasm you’ll never forget, not just because it’s your first from someone else’s doing, but it’s because you’ve never felt something that, at least for a few minutes or so, made you feel more confident, more accepting of yourself. This is who you are and Kuroo loves all of it. It’s hot and intimate and you don’t want this feeling to end.

You don’t notice how he’s getting off on your pleasure while you reel in it, moaning your name and shuddering faint praises of “good girl.” He turns to press his face to your neck and suck another kiss that will bleed beneath the skin and manifest as a bruise. Time moves like a snail when you come to your senses, bringing Kuroo’s fingers out of you with a low whine. He faces you after heavy, hot breaths on your neck, wet and sticky fingers going straight to his mouth to suck and moan softly. Moaning with him, you turn carefully on your side to watch him enjoy your release that coats his fingers.

“I’ll be getting it straight from the source next time,” he promises, leaning in to kiss you deeply. His tongue tastes like you, which isn’t unfavorable.

You want to give him more, give him what you can so you can feel those feelings again. After readjusting your clothes and letting him hear those last whines from the aftershocks of your orgasm, you look down at his pants and back up at him. “You came in your pants?”

Kuroo pulls his sleeve back down to cover his arm and nods. “Sorry you didn’t get to see my dick.”

A smile curls on your face and you nudge his chest with your index finger. “I don’t think I’d be ready for it, anyway.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes and hide your face under his chin. “You need to not.”

“What? I just want my kitten to be prepared for what she’ll get one day when she’s ready.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

“I mean it.”

You hum softly, taking in the hints of sweat and shower gel and laundry detergent. “Me too.”

The both of you are quiet for a little bit, Kuroo taking your glasses off, then petting your hair until you start to feel drowsy and you showing yourself to kiss his jaw. He sits up and looks down at himself, grumbling. “I’m gonna change. I don’t want my clothes to get all crusty.”

“You’re gross,” you mumble, closing your eyes and grabbing a pillow to settle into his bed.

“Says the girl who gets off on reading fictional characters doing butt stuff.”

You blush and tiredly flip him off. He laughs and kisses your hair.

You don’t want him to leave your side right now, especially now that you’re on the verge of sleep, but you leave him be. As much as you’d like to watch him change and shamelessly ogle all the tattoos you haven’t seen yet (and finally know if he’s got nipple piercings or not), you favor settling into his bed, replaying how he made you come and how you were kind of able to make him come, too. If time travel were a thing, you’d definitely go back to your high school freshman year and just tell fourteen-year-old you that you’ll be alright. There’ll still be hard times and unhappy thoughts and strange fanfiction ahead, but all of that will lead up to you meeting Kuroo Tetsurou.

He tugs the blanket out from under you with a strength he doesn’t show too often in spite of his build before climbing back into his bed, nudging you to lie closer to the wall so he can have room to be next to you. The blanket is as warm as you anticipated right from when you walked in. Kuroo’s much warmer when he holds you.

“Did you like it?” he asks.

You hum and turn to face him, eyes still closed. “I loved every moment of it. Mm...didn’t get to tell you everything.”

“Shh. You don’t have to.”  
  
“But I…”

“Sleep, baby. We’ll talk some more when we wake up. I’ll buy us dinner.”

“Fine.”

In just a few more breaths, you’re out like a light, falling asleep next to Kuroo and missing three words he whispers to you when you start to dream of nothing that compares to your experiences with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: When it comes to describing smut, I absolutely despise the word lemon. Stay tuned for more fun facts and more interactions with the lovely Kuroo.


	2. Weird, Sexy Circle of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people I am thankful for:  
> 1\. Barkly (again) for beta-reading and as always being wonderful  
> 2\. Kuroo Tetsurou, along with the rest of the Haikyuu characters  
> 3\. You guys, especially those of you who have mentioned that this story hits close to home. It's bittersweet to know that there are more of you who can relate to what I've put out here, but at least we're not alone. 
> 
> Because I've grown much more invested in this story, I think I'm going to make this longer than three chapters. I really want to see where I can take this and how I can make the relationship between Kuroo and reader blossom into something more beautiful than it already is. For now, enjoy this update and have a wonderful, safe Thanksgiving if you celebrate it <3

The library chose the wrong day for its heaters to work relentlessly. Even pushing up your sweater to your shoulders doesn’t cool you down. You’re sweating like a pig and your new student is going to be here in a few minutes based on their text to you and you don’t want to give them a bad impression. 

At the same time, you don’t want to take your sweater off.

The last time you were out in public with just a shirt was probably at some point during the summer, where the weather seriously wanted you to die from a heat stroke. After a shit ton of convincing from your friends (and the sun itself), you shed the cardigan and lasted a little while longer out and about, keeping your hands around your arms and hoping nobody would say anything cruel while you walked by. Now, you’re inside and the heaters are on full blast, keeping students much too heated for a cool autumn evening and keeping you from functioning like a regular human being. Losing the battle, you pull the sweater off your back and make damn sure your shirt stays on your skin. The top half of your clothes are a size bigger than what you should be wearing, but you prefer it that way. It hides all the stuff you hate.

You’re shoving your sweater in your bag when you suddenly hear a voice and the chair from across the table drag across the carpet. “Shit, can they cool it with the heaters? Heh. ‘Cool’ it.”

You sit upright, but you want to drop back down to the library floor and hope this is a joke. The person says your name and grins. “Are you the girl who’s gonna help me get an A in math?”

It’s like the solid form of embarrassment gets caught in your throat and you choke on it helplessly. A beat passes and you answer him with a hint of defensiveness, “If you mean ‘tutor you,’ then yes. You can get an A in math.”

“Help, tutor. Isn’t that the same thing?”

Great. You’re going to die and you haven’t interacted with this guy for a whole minute. Kuroo Tetsurou is his name. You received all the background info you need from the Student Academics Center on campus, but nobody there told you that he’s a fucking model on top of being an undeclared sophomore. The guy is barely twenty years old and you can already spot a tattoo sleeve and a few piercings in his ears. Not to mention he looks like he just rolled out of bed with his black hair going in seven different directions. You don’t know if a crush or an embolism just formed in your heart. Either way, this is bad. This is really bad.

“Right,” you say quickly. You introduce yourself and hold out a shaky hand across the table. “You must be Kuroo.”

“Yup. Nice to meet you.” He meets your hand, his nails decked in chipped, black nail polish, and gives you a firm handshake. You can barely look at those eyes when he takes a look at you—frizzy hair (which is more messed up now since taking off your sweater), brow covered in sweat, glasses that aren’t all big and wayfarer-shaped like the cool kids. You’ve got boxy, narrow frames, with thick lenses you want to clean up because maybe your vision is being screwy and maybe Kuroo isn’t hot and this is all a bad dream.

As if this first meeting can’t get any worse, Kuroo seems to notice how much you want to combust when he retracts his hand and leans forward. “You feeling okay? I promise I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that.” 

Any demon or spirit or titan would be extremely appropriate right now to take you away from that cheeky wink and that smile that hides what looks to you like a tongue piercing. Unfortunately, none of that exists, so you go back on the defense and reply without tripping up your words, “I’m into helping you with calculus, not listening to you try and pick me up.”

Ugh. Just the thought makes you want to hurl. The guy’s probably taken by some equally-hot person with a socially acceptable body and none of the anxiety. Why the hell would he try to make a pass at you? Now that that’s in your head, it makes this whole ordeal easier to deal with. So he likely isn’t the dreamboat you’re making him out to be right now. Maybe he’s just a sleaze like all the other people you’ve had the displeasure of knowing and the faster your sessions go, the faster you can forget him. The only things you’ll get out of this are a twisted sense of accomplishment and some extra money in your pocket. It’s a good plan for a solid minute while you both grab the appropriate materials from your bags.

Then Kuroo looks at you with a soft gaze and something else in his eyes you can’t make clear.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You use your reserve energy to not roll your eyes at him, then you shake your head and swipe your tablet screen harder to get to the page you need in the e-textbook. “It’s fine.”

“No it isn’t. You look like you want to punch me in the face.”

_ No, I want to kiss it instead _ . Your lips turn into some irregular shape while you attempt to figure out if he’s being honest. It takes too long and you file it away for later. “Thanks. That’s nice of you. Are you ready?”

He nods, sitting up straight like a goody-goody student and interlacing his fingers at the edge of the table. “Absolutely, teacher. I am ready to learn.”

You really stop thinking about his game because now you’re just laughing at how dorky he’s acting.

 

The session goes by smoother than you expect despite the first few sentences exchanged between you two. You two discuss what he needs help in and how he can improve after his abysmal first quiz score. You go back to basics, scribbling formulas and pointing to various variables that hopefully sort of start to make sense to him. Watching him do math with the heat turned up makes you feel like you’re spiraling into some weird, sexy circle of hell that’s torturous enough to make Dante turn in his grave. But you fight through it. You exercise your patience and intellect to repeat anything he might not have understood previously, pointing out mistakes and making sure he’s got at least a few important concepts in the bag. In solely this first meeting, you learn that he’s receptive to your suggestions, immediately trying to improve and doing his best to work with that improvement in other problems. You’re impressed.

While Kuroo works, you switch from the textbook to something more pleasurable to read, like your favorite fanfic author’s recently-posted oneshot that leaves you in a temporary, better mood to distract you from your hot student. It’s better than staring at him, thinking inappropriately and then freezing when he looks up and asks why you’re staring. Who knows—maybe mind readers are real and he’ll be able to see all the scenarios you’ve been dreaming of. Luckily, none of that happens and you leave a gushing comment to the author saying that they’ve made your day after you finish it. Time is on your side because once you finish, Kuroo’s in need of help again.

After working through what was probably a week’s worth of old homework problems, you call it a day and take a deep breath. The heat’s finally been fixed and not making you look uglier than you think you are, so you immediately throw your sweater back on. “Why are you taking calculus if you’re undeclared?” you ask suddenly since it just connected in your head.

He shrugs, putting his things away and getting his jacket on. Naturally, it’s leather and fitted because what else is he supposed to wear besides his birthday suit to make you feel completely wrecked?

“I tested out of the other math classes,” he explains, “so I got thrown into this one. As you can see, it kind of sucks.”

“But you aren’t doing  _ terrible _ ,” you say. “I mean, judging by how you’re doing now, I think you just need more practice. You could go on and do the next calculus class if you really wanted to, if you do well in the end.”

“Hell no. Where am I gonna need all this math?”

“You kind of don’t need it in the first place, which is why I asked. Like, do you want to go into engineering?”

He shrugs. “There’s a reason why I haven’t picked a major. I don’t know what I want to do.”

“But you want to get an A in math.”

“Correct.”

Kuroo’s mysterious choices leave you swamped with all the other thoughts you have about him. They make you trudge to the elevator, pushing the button to the bottom floor right before Kuroo joins you in the space. Turns out you two live in the same dorm complex, just on different floors. The silence is a teeny bit tense until Kuroo starts talking again.

“You haven’t said a word about yourself to me besides your name. Like, what’s  _ your _ major?”

You tell him.

“Yeah? Sounds fun. And how’d you get so good in math?”

With a subtle sigh, so you don’t sound completely annoyed by the question, you tell him about how you were kind of a math whiz in high school and how the subject simply came easily to you. You were able to teach your classmates and scored the highest grades amongst the senior class when you took calculus. Because of that, you didn’t have to take math in college and now you can cruise through the other courses you really need. It saved a lot of time and money.

“So now you’re getting money for doing stuff you did for free in high school,” Kuroo says.

“Yeah. Except my friends paid me in food sometimes. I guess you can count that as payment.”

Kuroo snorts. “I know it’s not me paying you directly, but should I tip you in food?”

Your stomach turns uncomfortably but you ignore it. “No, but thanks for the offer.”

“Aw, come on.” He opens up the door for you, out into campus where the sun is just about to set and everyone’s making their way either to an evening class or back to their dorms. “My best friend and I go to this barbecue place all the time. You should come with us one of these days.”

“We literally just met,” you say, although going out with him and his friends who are also probably some rebellious alternative folk sounds appealing. “And like I said, no thanks.”

“Ramen, then. Or hotpot? Ooh, there’s a curry place across from here—”

“Kuroo.” You stop in your tracks and you adjust your glasses, that uncomfortable feeling in your gut becoming more and more apparent. “Really, you don’t have to feed me.”

You speak softer and hope he doesn’t hear you, “Not like I need the extra food, anyway.”

He cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow, stopping with you. “Huh? What do you mean?”

You’re far away from the overheated library at this point, but you break into a sweat regardless. Is it the long walk? The way Kuroo’s making you feel everything from desire to envy? Or is it just your body going into “fuck you” mode and screwing over everything like it usually does? It’s probably the last one. It’s probably all those thoughts from before about how you hesitate to order a large meal when your friends order smalls, how your family comments on how “healthy” you’ve gotten since seeing them the year before, how you have to hide your heavy breathing if you take the stairs.  

Kuroo’s about to snap you out of whatever you’re thinking and you answer him bitterly, “You know what I mean.”

“Uh, no actually. I don’t. What’s wrong with talking about food?”

“There’s—” you bite your lip, “that’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?”

A long silence follows. You rub your eyes in danger of bursting into tears, slowly moving again in the direction of the complex. Kuroo’s still walking with you. You don’t know why he still is. You also don’t know what he’s thinking about. Perhaps you won’t ever see him again. He’s going to ask for a different tutor and you’ll be left with one less student and one more heartbreak to add to your mental tally board. That’s how it always goes.

The complex is a hundred feet away. Kuroo breaks the silence again.

“Did I make you feel uncomfortable again?”

You inhale sharply and nod. “Yeah. You did.”

“Shit.” He sighs and looks around like there’s a chance of finding a solution nearby. “Is it how I look? Am I being too weird? Like, I know what I did earlier, but I really don’t know what I did now.”

“It’s not you,” you say. “It’s me. It’s always me.”

“Now you  _ really _ aren’t making any sense,” Kuroo says. He stops this time and reaches out to take your wrist and keep you from walking inside. “Hey. Talk to me.”

Your chest is unbelievably tight. It’ll be in your favor to stop and do what he says so you can find some semblance to a heartbeat. Breaking free of his grip, you fold your arms and focus your eyes on something behind him so you don’t have to make direct eye contact. “It really isn’t you, I promise. I’m not about to tell you all the shit I’ve been through in order to explain why I don’t want or need you to take me out to dinner. I thought just looking at me would do the trick.”

Something that looks like sadness and pity washes over him when it clicks in his head. You both stand at the entrance, Kuroo quiet and seemingly searching for something to say while you try to get your feet to move and head back inside so you can bury your face in your pillow and forget all the torturously embarrassing things that happened to you today. From today, you figure Kuroo isn’t a bad person.

But he shouldn’t try to be a better one for your sake.  

“Coffee.”

That’s not quite what you expect from him after what’s probably the thousandth awkward silence of the day. “What?”

“Coffee,” Kuroo says with a small smile. “When we meet later this week, we could meet at the coffee shop. The one near the library.”

You scoff, on the border of laughing at his proposition. “I’ve been wanting to  _ cry _ this entire time I’ve been with you tonight, and you’re still trying to take me out?”

“Nope,” he replies calmly, like he’s trying to avoid what you just said about crying, “I’m only suggesting a place to meet for my next session with you. The library’s going to have to close over the weekend to fix their heating, so we’ll need to go somewhere else, anyway. I’d like to go to the coffee shop near there. With you. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

Solid point. Yet you still counter, “You don’t have any other places to suggest?”

“Unless you want to go to your dorm. Or mine.”

Fuck that. You won’t last any longer than you did in the library if you’re in a small, personal space alone with him. “Nevermind. Coffee shop sounds good.”

“Nice. And I’m not forcing you to get anything,” he reassures. “I won’t buy you anything unless you ask me, either.”

“Kuroo,” you say as firmly as you can, “I’m not going to ask you to buy anything for me.”

“Alriiiiight,” he sings, a long leg turning and stepping forward towards the entrance. Which is good since you were starting to get tired standing outside and blocking the doorway for several people who walked right between you two. He holds the door for you again and you’re welcomed by appropriate heating settings and the faint scent of cinnamon. Someone’s probably making cider.

You both find your way to another elevator, finding out that you live more towards the top floor than he does. It’s a longer ride up, and your exhausted brain is telling you that it’s your turn to keep silence at bay.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

It’s as if you’re really making Kuroo think tonight on top of all the calculus you dropped on him. He looks at you incredulously, head tilted and looking into your eyes like if he stares long enough he’ll find the answer you want out of him. Not like he can look at you that long since you’re horrible with eye contact. It doesn’t seem like he’ll be able to reply, anyway.

The door opens and he nearly forgets to get off, hopping to the edge and keeping his arm over one side to keep the elevator from closing. Tapping his toes on the floor, he answers you, “Because nobody, including you, ever deserves to be treated like shit. I’ll see you Saturday.”

He winks before walking off and letting the elevator shut and swoop you up to your floor. His words roll over in your head as you walk down the hallways. They continue rolling when you drop your bag, kick your shoes off and hide yourself from your roommate who’s wondering why you’re crying.

 

***

 

“I kept the cup, you know.”

Kuroo looks up from his laptop screen and swallows the french fry he has in his mouth. “What cup?”

There’s an ad for a chain coffee place that pops onto the screen, a short little break from the TV show you’re both watching on his bed. You use your pinky to point at it while the rest of your fingers crumple the paper wrapped around your burger. “The first drink you ever bought me.”

He grins and bumps your shoulder with his own. He remembers the exact name and size of the drink you ordered along with the pastry you ordered with it. “It’s your favorite thing to order from any coffee place.”

“Mhmm. Kinda stupid, but yeah.”

“It’s not stupid,” he reassures you, snatching more fries that are laid out on top of several napkins. “Like, if you left your panties with me I’d keep them, too.”

“Kuroo!” You smack his arm, harder this time since gaining a little more energy from your nap and your burger. “You are so inappropriate, I swear.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he cackles, kissing your cheek apologetically. “Isn’t that how you almost punched me in the face when we first met?”

You roll your eyes and dispose of the now-empty wrapper, then reach to his nightstand to grab the soda the both of you are sharing. “I never wanted to punch you. How could I punch that pretty face of yours?”

“People have tried, thinking I was causing trouble when really I was just laughing at Bokuto trying to sneeze and burp at the same time.” He takes your drink and steals a sip. “You know I would, though.”

“You would attempt to sneeze and burp at the same time?”

He holds up the last fry to your mouth and jabs your bottom lip with it. “Yes, but I’d also keep anything you give me. Like those perfect quizzes I got because of you.”

You blush as you quickly chomp the fry out of his fingers and wash it down with more soda. “You’re supposed to keep them. Your final is cumulative.”

“So?”

You scowl at Kuroo like a miffed mother. “So you’re able to study off of them?”

He pouts before clarifying, “So I’m able to think of you even after I finish this class.”

It’s a sappy and total Kuroo thing to say of him, but you adore the sentiment, especially when he cleans his hands free of salt and reaches over his bed to grab his backpack and dig up those quizzes you’re both talking about. While he’s bent over next to you, you can see that tattoo on his side again and you’re trying to figure out what all those lines and colors connect and make up on his skin. A part of you wants to reach out and touch it but he comes back up and shows you the several quizzes he’s taken throughout the semester.

You’re ready to cry when you can see his notes off to the side along with the calculations. All the tricks and stupid jokes you’ve made during your sessions with him are scribbled on all the papers. Thus far, you only glanced at the nice, big perfect scores in red. You never noticed how much effort Kuroo put into his work while he was doing them. The smile on your face is massive, teeth hiding a squeal when you flip through the work and point out all the things you’ve said.

“You’re an awesome teacher,” he says, “but you already know that.”

You grow more modest in your smile and hand back his work. “I guess I am.”

“Not ‘you guess,’” he says firmly. “You are.”

“Fine, fine,” you say, not wanting to pick a fight because he almost always wins with you trying to feel better about yourself. You toss away the rest of the trash from your meal and stand up to stretch. “I am an awesome teacher.”

“And an awesome girlfriend.”

You roll your eyes. “And an awesome girlfriend.”

“Good girl.” 

After setting everything off so that the bed is clear of everything but themselves, Kuroo lies back on his bed and pulls you to his side. Soft music starts to play from his phone after he taps the screen a few times and sets it next to the candles on his bed. It’s one of the bands you’ve never heard before, with a slow tempo and vocals that help you wind down and spend more quality time with your boyfriend. That “good girl” praise leaves you tingly, blushing and smiling deviously as he gives you a kiss and you place a hand on his chest.

“I like it when you call me that,” you tell him.

“Call you what?”

“A good girl,” you say after a moment of the music filling Kuroo’s and your ears.

“Is that so? You like it when I call you different names,” he murmurs, a hand running up your side. “Baby, kitten...and now ‘good girl.’ I like it.”

You moan softly at how quietly Kuroo speaks, unsure if you want to be aroused or sleepy from his words. For now, you go with it, tracing mindless lines and shapes over his chest, wondering what other tattoos he’s hiding underneath all those clothes. The sensual touches bring you to a reminder that you haven’t told him all your fantasies. You’re not sure if you want to now, and he’s not pressuring you to do so, but he has a right to know, seeing that you’re now kind of able to do whatever you please with him so long as it’s within reason.

“Kuroo,” you say, “can I...tell you some of the other stuff I’ve been thinking about?”

You aren’t sure if he knows you mean the “inappropriate” stuff, but he nods anyway and takes your hand on his chest to kiss it, right before going back to holding you. “Go for it, baby. What’s on your mind?”

You clear your throat and take a minute to gather your thoughts; not like you’ve ever shared anything x-rated to anyone else in your life. It’s another first for today. Paying attention to your fingers walking along the fabric of his hoodie, you speak softly, “I’ve, um, always wanted to know how...big you are?”

He’s taken aback by the confession, pulling back and stilling his hand on your hip for only a second before realizing what you’re getting at. Grinning, he leans back in and bites your lower lip. “Why don’t you feel for yourself?”

You suddenly start to think that this is a mistake; you’ve never touched a dick before and you haven’t gotten the hang of dirty talking yet. Like, can you only touch him when he’s hard? Does it feel weird when it’s not? Is it true about how the tip is the most sensitive part—

“Hey,” Kuroo whispers, taking your hand for you and guiding it down his body. “Don’t be scared. It’s not gonna bite, I promise.”

You huff a laugh and try your best to keep your fingers from trembling in his. “I don’t want to make you feel weird, either.”

“You’re not going to make me feel weird,” he promises, the tips of your fingers grazing the band of his sweats. “Just as long as you don’t call it weird shit, like meat stick or something.”

“Kuroo, no,” you whine, stifling a laugh. Your fingers become more relaxed when you feel his chest rumble in laughter, too. “I just want to give you a hand job, geez.”

“You are more than welcome to do that,” he says, attempting to contain the eagerness in his voice. You start to feel an outline between his legs, making your fingers tense at first contact. There isn't much to go off of with just that, but Kuroo encourages your touch when he pushes your hand down on the small bulge that'll only grow larger if you keep touching and talking.

“Kuroo,” you say with a breath, beginning to move on your own given his guidance. You hear him groan and you're not sure if it's from hearing his name or from palming him. Whatever the case, you want to hear it again like you did when he fingered you.

“Good girl. Just like that, baby,” he shudders, “you're doing a good job.”

The encouragement is much appreciated, a smidge of confidence providing you with more energy to seek out that outline while you kiss him. You want to feel that stud in his tongue again, how it gets you so much wetter than if he didn't have it in.

“Do you have a piercing here?” you ask abruptly. He’s half-hard and you've got a better grip around his cock, but you can't make out if there's a Prince Albert or not around the tip, nor do you want to because you'll probably wind up touching yourself (or have him do it for you, now that you’ve got that crossed off your to-do list) thinking about how you won't be able to last if he's drilling you with it.

Kuroo answers you first with a grin, refraining from groaning again when you hook your thumb and index finger around what you think is the base of his cock. There isn't a lot of stroking going on with all the layers he's wearing, but you don't need to do that right now when you've finally dropped a question that's been on your mind.

“Well, kitten,” he hums, “I—”

It's like someone popped the bubble you and Kuroo created to shut out everyone else. Reality tackles you hard and Kuroo immediately flips to shield you from the forces that have done so. That shield, in the form of him plus a blanket, is nice and warm, but your heart beats like a drumroll after shrieking and flinging your hand away from your boyfriend. The door is wide open and at the threshold you find a loud, beefy guy tossing his gym bag onto the bed across from you two and whooping like he had just won the lottery. Just when he's about to greet Kuroo, he stops, eyes golden and wide and yelling out an “oh shit” before taking a step back at the foot of the door. He clutches his spiked, two-toned hair, grinning wide and laughing.

“Dude, what the fuck?!” Kuroo shouts back. It's like when his best friend/roommate is present his voice goes from a two to max level.

“Dude!” Bokuto says, still grinning. He snaps his eyes at you, slapping his thighs and hopping. You try to hide everything but your eyes under the blanket while Kuroo clings to your waist, but Bokuto isn't  _ that _ stupid. Hell, he might be smarter than Kuroo based on your interactions with him.

“Bad timing,” Kuroo shouts again, chucking a pillow in his direction. Bokuto dodges it and nearly approaches the two of you with all the enthusiasm of a small child.

“You did it!” he praises, eyes still on you after giving you a late greeting with a wave and a shout of your name. “Holy shit, I'm so proud of you!”

Your eyes narrow and you show yourself, clothed and calmer than when he busted through the door. It was also necessary to move because you were going to lose it with Kuroo’s erection poking your thigh. “Thanks?”

He giggles, oblivious to the fact that you’re clearly not naked and indicative of any more involved sexual activity, and whips out his phone, only for Kuroo to essentially leap over you and snatch it away. 

“Don't you dare,” Kuroo hisses.

“Aw, come on!” Bokuto whines, reaching for his phone but missing how Kuroo switches it to his other hand. “This is an important day. I gotta tell Akaashi.”

“Do you think he wants to know about you walking in on us?”

“Why wouldn't he?”

“Because you’ll be a  _ bad boy _ ,” Kuroo grins, emphasizing those last two words and making them sound more sultry, “and you won't be able to play volleyball if your ass is numb.” 

The threat seems to work when Bokuto finally stills and flattens his lips, reaching out politely for his phone back. Kuroo obliges.

When he's not at full speed, you like Bokuto. He was a little much upon first meeting him, but he toned it down a few times after that and you can't help but laugh at how he and Kuroo make the perfect (albeit sometimes absolutely stupid) pair of best friends. You relax back into bed and watch Bokuto head for the door, about to exit until he pokes his head through and calls your name.

“Yeah?” you answer.

He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows. “Did you see the cat on his ass?”

Kuroo yells and jumps out of bed, blanket flying off your body when he throws the door open after Bokuto slams it shut to chase him down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I frequent different coffee shops where I live and I've definitely written some of my work in some places. Although, it's really hard to get through even a few hundred words without being worried about someone looking at my screen...
> 
> Feel free to send in Punk!Kuroo headcanons or anything else you'd like to see in this story! I'd love to hear from you guys.


	3. Something Goes Inside Something Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin:  
> -Take a quick look at [this painting](http://www.lilithohan.com/images/gallery/1454988044_1/2526s.JPG) titled "Dendrobium" by Lilith Ohan. Just do it ;)  
> -I'd like to apologize to those who have never taken or never plan to take calculus. Because there are more calculus references in this chapter lmao  
> -Speaking of references, an unintentional shoutout to the bae [Sabby](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SabbyWrites) because Barkly pointed something out when she beta read this chapter in regards to punk AUs. _Pretty in Punk_ from ASID is one of my favorite chapters. Go do yourself a favor and check out her work if you haven't already.
> 
> AND THAT'S IT let's have some fun~

“What are you reading?”

You look up from your tablet, a bigger effort than one can assume because the story you’re reading is your favorite alternate universe. “Huh?”

Kuroo pokes the eraser end of his pencil at the edge of your tablet. “Every time you turn me loose, your eyes are glued to that thing. What’s got you so engrossed?”

You huff at his use of such a fancy word and put your tablet down, watching him carefully so that he doesn’t peek while you grab your small, favorite hot drink, courtesy of Kuroo’s generosity (which you finally gave into—damn that stupid smile of his). Luckily, he respects your space and patiently waits for you to answer him. Drinking is really just stalling for what you’re going to tell him. Other people have definitely judged you and your friends for discussing (read: yelling) over the source of the fanfiction you read, so you’re not taking any chances telling Kuroo the truth. It’s been a few weeks of tutoring twice a week, and though Kuroo is still a gorgeous ditz when it comes to calculus, he isn’t about to learn more of what you tend to hide from everyone else.

“Some...book,” you settle, though it’s a little weird to call fic that. “I’m just really into the story, that’s all.”

“Yeah? What’s it about?”

You chew on your lip and put your cup down, lost for how you want to describe what you’re reading. You think you did a good job, though, leaving characters’ names out and briefly detailing all the stuff that’s happening without revealing its original source. Kuroo smiles and doesn’t take his eyes off you, twirling the pencil in his fingers. The attention you get from him is nice and all, but you also opt for looking at either your tablet or the back of some other student’s head behind him to avoid trailing off upon gazing into absolute dreaminess.

“Sounds pretty cool,” Kuroo says when you finish. “Can I read it?”

The drink in your stomach starts to boil and churn at his question. “Uh,” you stutter, then realize, “wait, shouldn’t you be working?”

He laughs and flips his notebook over to show you the problems you asked him to do. They’re already complete and neatly laid out, answers boxed in. “So what’s that book called?”

You falter when you grab your red pen and start looking over his work. Reluctantly, you tell him.

“And who’s it by?”

You accidentally slash through a part of his work that’s correct. The “okay, sorry” you write on his paper is ugly but you don’t care about that right now because you don’t want to drop a username in place of a name. The delay in your answer runs for too long, and you know it when Kuroo pulls out his phone and hums curiously. Maybe there’s still time to dip out and quickly thank him for the drink.

“It’s...fanfiction?” he asks.

You open your mouth but no coherent words come out, like all your vocabulary just so happened to hide in the recesses of your brain because they’re deathly afraid they’ll be used incorrectly.

“That’s pretty cool,” Kuroo says, scrolling through his phone. You assume he googled the title and found everything else, including the site it’s posted on and the author’s username. “Like, you’re borrowing a story so you can create something totally new with characters you already like.”

You take another drink and nearly spit it out with how well he’s taking this. “Yeah,” you manage to say, “but sometimes the writers don’t borrow the whole story. They just borrow the characters.”

“So like this story you’re reading right now,” Kuroo says, holding out his phone and showing you the mobile version of what you’re reading. “I’ve heard of the original, but the author puts the characters in a completely different setting.”

“Mhmm. Lots of people do that.”

“Can people rewrite endings to books if they hate them?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Lot of people like to write stuff that diverts from canon.”

“Canon?”

You’re about to explain what that means until you realize all the red marks you made in his work. Besides your one mistake, all the parts you marked in red are  _ his _ mistakes, instead. You show him his work and you offer, “How about you fix these mistakes first and I can tell you more about fanfic?”

He pouts at the shoddy work he presented you and takes his notebook back. “That’s one way to motivate me.”

You laugh, finishing your drink and going back to reading more comfortably. It’s the first time in a long time since you’ve felt this comfortable reading fanfiction around someone who didn’t. Kuroo takes his time while you read, presumably figuring out his mistakes himself and groaning each time he realizes that he’s made simple errors that need to be correct before his next exam. He taps the top of your tablet this time with his notebook, the current page now corrected with all the things he should have gotten right the first time. You nod in approval once you look through it, smiling like a proud mother.

“Nice job. Are you ready to take this a step forward?”

“No no, you gotta tell me about canon. What’s that?”

The interest in Kuroo’s eyes looks so genuine you can barely function trying to switch apps and open up your math textbook. As you turn to a clean page in his notebook and write down a few problems to do for future homework assignments, you school him on the basic terms of fanfiction and what you know about it. Which is a lot—you’ve grown up reading it and you’re still reading it as a second year in college. Not much has changed except your tastes in tags and AUs.

“Do you write your own?” he asks, getting his notebook back and taking a look through the problems. He pouts, knowing that you weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to take his work a step further.

You shake your head. “No, I just read it. Go to page 154 if you need to review. Don’t use a calculator.”

His frown grows deeper. “And what if I do?”

Unbelievable. Quickly thinking of some stupid punishment, you shake the now-empty cup in your hands. “You won’t be allowed to buy me anything anymore.”

He feigns despair, leaning back and putting his hand to his chest with wide eyes and a gasp. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” you say flatly. “And you can go back to being a hot mess at calculus.”

“Oho, so you think I’m hot?”

Your face burns red. If it weren’t for your notoriously terrible aim, you would have thrown your cup right at Kuroo’s stupid, perfect head.

 

“So, like,  _ Alien Invaders _ .”

You raise an eyebrow when Kuroo doesn’t continue his thought as the both of you make your way back to the dorm hall. The two of you have been talking about nothing but the ins and outs of fanfiction. “Yes?”

“Someone could totally take the characters out of the space setting and put them in a totally normal one? Like, no aliens, no drama, none of that?”

You nod. It’s like teaching him the origins of the basic derivative—you have to repeat it over and over in different contexts so that he understands it. Except he seems to understand and like fanfiction much more than he does calculus. “Like I said, you can do  _ anything _ . Fluff, angst, smut, whatever.”

“Heh. Nice. I should text Iwaizumi about that. Maybe his boyfriend’ll finally stop bitching about the third movie and he can just read some stuff about those characters being happy.” He pulls out his phone, as if going to text his friend right now, then looks up like he’s just realized something. He did. “What’s smut?”

Oops. Slip of the tongue.

That’s the one thing you didn’t cover with him for obvious reasons. Obvious to you, at least; there’s no way you can mention porn when you’re likely talking to a sex god sent from above (or below, depending on how you look at it). Your stomach drops and you look ahead, tightening your grip on your bag. “Uhh. You know. Like...adult stuff.”

“Adult stuff like taxes?”

You snort. “You’re an idiot.”

“What?” Kuroo whines. “I, a mere student of yours, am a curious learner and would like to know what you mean by ‘adult stuff.’”

You don’t answer him. You just groan. Kuroo mimics your groaning before thinking about it for a millisecond. “Is it porn?”

“Ding ding ding. That didn’t take you very long,” you say, sarcasm oozing off your tongue.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, then purposely bumps your arm with his with a snicker. “Do you read that stuff, too?”

You whip your head in his direction, disgust plastered all over your face. That’s literally how you learned about sex. Not so much the technical part like how high school taught you (and even that was a mess of a time), but a lot more of the variations of “something goes inside something else multiple times until all parties experience intense pleasure.” Lots of those fics have made you feel a little less lonely in the late, late night, although it’d be a lot nicer if someone else (like Kuroo?) would have brought you to that feeling. 

Kuroo, however, will never find out about any of this. Ever. Even if the planets all aligned and the gods decide that you’re deserving of someone like Kuroo, you’ll  _ never _ tell him that you read smut. And get off to it. Sometimes. Only when it’s good.

“Absolutely not,” you answer after a gasp. “And even if I did, I’d never tell you.”

“Why not? Everyone’s got their way of getting off. Some people watch porn, others read it. So you’re a watcher?”

You hope that the ground you’re walking on has a bad crack that can send your right into depths where you don’t have to be in this situation. You’re a reader  _ and _ a watcher...but a lot of the watching is really sourced from warped memories/dreams of him flexing or stretching or staring at you.  “Uncomfortable, Kuroo.”

He pouts. “Unfair. You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Accidentally!”

“I mean, I’d totally find out anyway. That’s what the Internet is for.”

“You can do that when you’re  _ not _ studying for your exam. Which should be minimal time because you’re still forgetting negative signs when you derive the long way!”

More pouty silence. Kuroo, you hope, is starting to think that he isn’t going to find his way around invading your knowledge of fanfiction. It’s nice to explain this to someone who isn’t automatically questioning its purpose, but he really should be studying. And not paying so much attention to you and what you like to do. 

He opens the door for you to the dorm hall and makes sure the elevator doesn’t close so suddenly when he skips in, first. The ride up to Kuroo’s floor feels like forever when it’s quiet, and it feels even longer when he pauses, takes a breath, and stands in the middle to keep the doors from closing so you can get to your floor. He grins in that way that makes your stomach flip and your heart beat faster because you know whatever he’s going to say is going to be something you’re going to think about for the next few days.

“Do you want to hang out, like, outside of you tutoring me?”

You’re waiting for the floor beneath you to drop and you can suddenly be jerked awake from this dream. Except this isn’t a dream.

“Huh?”

The elevator tries to close again, but Kuroo nudges it away. “I was thinking we could go to the arcade across the street from here. Blow some yen after my exam in case I fuck it up.”

Words or vomit are caught in your throat. You aren’t sure which one. The deal was you see him twice a week when both your schedules are open and that’s it. Nowhere did it say he could treat you like a friend and invite you somewhere. It sounds like such a foreign concept. And if he’s doing this because you’re more than a tutor? More than a friend? Are you seriously not dreaming?

“You’re not going to fuck it up,” you say when the elevator tries to shut for probably the fifth time, shifting in your stance and trying to look at the worn-down paneling around you instead of his eyes that are very much hopeful and cute and _why_ _the fuck_ is it so hard to say yes?

“Your reassurance is encouraging.” You’re not sure if he’s being sarcastic or not. “So what do you say?”

It’s words that are caught in your throat. Not vomit. You’d have to be completely out of your mind to say no to hanging out with him. Kuroo’s more than just a pretty face and a pretty body and a pretty everything else. He’s a lot sweeter than he looks and he actually cares about your feelings. The guy asked you about fanfiction and he didn’t shit on it, for god’s sake. Your answer should be as easy as deriving a constant.

Unfortunately, luck decided to take a break for today. Right when you’re about to nod, someone enters the elevator and side-eyes the both of you after pushing a button for a floor above yours. Kuroo has to step out of the way, but you see him wink at you before he’s off and the doors shut, at last.

It isn’t until you get to the dorm when you roll around in bed for a solid twenty minutes (much to your roommate’s confused questioning), then text him what time he wants to go after his exam and where he should meet up with you.

 

***

 

Instead of actually studying for finals, students can argue extensively on which is worse: the week before finals week or finals week itself. There are solid points for both sides, but ultimately, determining which is worse is like determining if it’s more painful to get your left thumb or your right thumb cut off. Nobody wins. 

Unfortunately, that applies to you and Kuroo. While you’ve basically been studying this whole semester and been doing well enough that you can simply just show up at your final and still get an A in your classes, the pressure is still on to nail these last exams and prove to yourself that you are, indeed, a giant fucking nerd.

Who just so happens to have a hot boyfriend. Suck on that, high school assholes.

You’re in Kuroo’s and Bokuto’s dorm room again, minus Bokuto, who made it  _ very _ clear before he left you two that he’ll knock when he comes back. Kuroo wasn’t amused. Since the hand job debacle about a week and a half ago, you haven’t been able to touch Kuroo and figure out whether or not he has that dick piercing you’ve read about a few times in fanfiction where the character is a punk. Then again, Kuroo hasn’t been able to touch you, either, which is just as unfortunate. After all that, you both just wound up falling asleep together, which was totally fine with you because you weren’t sure whether or not Bokuto was going to walk on you two again.

Right now, though you both would rather be doing something else (including each other), it’s all about studying and making sure that neither of you will get kicked in the ass by exams and drop out.

You finish going over a set of flashcards of various questions for one class when suddenly you feel the bed dip next to you. Kuroo lies facedown, his groan muffled in the pillow. You have to lean over to the wall right next to you so you can make room and so he doesn’t roll away from you, looking down at him sympathetically. The last exam before the final has been the hardest one yet for him to study, and the hardest one for you to go over because it’s only gotten more difficult. You’re still doing your best as his tutor, explaining the concepts as many times as he needs to. He hasn’t really asked you anything in the time you two have been here, although it looks like he needs some guidance now.

“Fuck this,” he grumbles, “I’m gonna go and foster dogs and cats and sell benzoylmethylecgonine for a living.”

You ought to smack him with your tablet for his negativity (but more so for his unnecessary use of a longass word he learned from the Internet), but instead, you reach over and run your fingers through his hair, combing through soft, messy tufts of black. “What the fuck is that?”

“Cocaine.”

“Kuroo,” you groan, “you’re not gonna become a drug dealer. Even though you  _ look _ like a drug dealer.”

He turns his head towards you with a pout. “All the more reason for me to become one.”

“Shut up.” You poke his head before returning to your tablet, picking another flashcard set to flip through and make sure you’ve got down all the material you’ve known since the beginning of the semester. Kuroo continues to whine, twisting in bed while you recall information. At some point, he turns back on his stomach, about to poke your thigh but opting for prodding your arm.

“Baby,” he says. “Baaaaaaaby.”

The hand holding your tablet starts to clench. As cute as needy Kuroo is, just like all the other boys who seem to do that in the area of fluffy, domestic fic, you want to get through this set so you can take your break. “Kuroo, I don’t know what you want, but whatever it is, it can wait.”

“So I can’t ask you for help right now?”

Your eyes narrow and you flip your head back to him, unamused. “You’re not doing work, so it won’t even matter.”

Another groan. He turns over for the millionth time on his back and stares at the ceiling, attempting to calm down from whatever he’s trying to review. It must be hard for him, you think. Those hundreds didn’t just magically appear on those quizzes, and now he’s got to utilize everything he knows for this final. But you believe in him. Kuroo’s a lot smarter than he comes off and you have no doubt in your mind that he’ll do well.

Being in bed with him for the first time since last week-ish (re: since your first sexual experience with him) has made you crave him even more. Not that you haven’t been craving him since he sat down across from you in a sweltering library. You want to feel it again, though. You want to finish what you started and get your questions answered without falling too far into the rabbit hole to the point of discomfort. A flashcard appears on your tablet when you tap the screen. Then you look back at Kuroo, blankly looking up at the drywall. Sighing, you set your tablet on the mattress and carefully maneuver your way to straddle his thighs, mindful as to not sit on them because you still think you’re going to crush his legs (when you won’t).

His gaze flicks down from the ceiling to your eyes and he grins, reaching out with eager fingers to hold your hands. “Oho? What’s on your mind, kitten?”

“I…” your voice gets caught in your throat and suddenly this feels a lot harder to do. How does someone just ask to give someone else a hand job? How did you do it last time? You just asked, right? Sort of?

Kuroo shifts under you and you immediately raise your legs, thinking you’re making him uncomfortable. This is probably a bad idea. You could just lie on your side like you did last time instead of cutting off all the blood supply in his legs. Or you could just not do this at all. After all, the bed is small, finals are coming up and you need to study…

You hear your name and feel hands on your hips as Kuroo eases you back down on his thighs. “Is it playtime?”

That’s not exactly the sexiest way he can put it like he did last time, but you nod meekly, worming your fingers inside the pocket of his hoodie. “I wanted to finish what I was trying to do last time.”

His gaze becomes more piercing, more wanting when you tell him. Hands find yours again to guide them up to his chest where he knows you’re comfortable touching him (for now). “Sounds perfect. Come here.”

You follow what he says, keeping your hands in their position as you lean over and give him a kiss. It’s strange being the one on top like this; you’re not very sure if you can even last with your knees digging into the mattress and your arms sandwiched between your chests. Though you two have definitely made out before, you were usually in a more comfortable position where you could just relax or cling to him and not worry about crushing him like a bug. You’re not so sure about this position.

You start to not care and grow more comfortable with every kiss Kuroo gives you, his hands massaging your hips while you keep your own pressed to his chest. He starts to lift his hips up, brushing against your own to the point when you start to feel a little bulge rubbing up against you. A whimper leaves your lips and you break away, Kuroo’s tongue stud running over the surface of his own lips. You’re supposed to be the one getting him hot, not him. Even though that’s totally impossible.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he whispers.

Endearing as it is, you don’t want to make him wait long enough before he’s coming in his pants (again). A few more kisses and you pull yourself up, dragging your hands along his abdomen and hesitating at his hips. Your fingers tremble as you undo the button of his pants, concentrating like you’re defusing a bomb. Except you want this bomb to go off. The world is in your capable hands. 

Kuroo reaches down for your hands again and stills them. You find the time to breathe at this point, heart working double time from all the air you’re holding in.

“It’s okay, kitten,” he says, massaging your hands with the pads of his fingers. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

You nod, sliding free of his grip and huffing out another gust of air to continue your delicate work. Kuroo waits patiently as you unzip his pants. You pay attention to the bulge in the middle, not as prominent as it was when he wore sweats last time but still intimidating nonetheless. You move back a little to shimmy down his pants, exposing his black boxer briefs that hug his thighs in all the right spots. Deep breaths, you tell yourself. You’ve done this much before, and this time there won’t be any interruptions to stop you. Like last time, you graze your fingers over the outline, watching for Kuroo to let out that little groan. He bites his lip instead, twitching in anticipation as he looks at you, eyes falling half-lidded.

“I know you want to know what it looks like,” he breathes. “Nobody’s going to stop you now, baby. You can look.  _ And _ you can touch.”

Kuroo’s motivation finds you more confident and calmer, the pads of your fingers now feeling for that soft flesh that starts to stiffen further when you touch. It’s funny how Kuroo’s getting more excited with you’re simply grazing him over his underwear. Boys really do get turned on by the littlest things. That, or maybe he’s simply wanted this as badly as you do since you asked.

You curl your fingers around his cock as you lean forward and give him another kiss. He kisses back eagerly, his hand finding yours between his legs and rocking it gently as he grows harder. At the same time, you can feel yourself getting aroused. But that’s not important right now.

Moment of truth. Pulling back, you look down and get your fingers under the band of his underwear. One more breath and you slide them down along with his jeans, shimmying them far enough so that you can expose what you want, and sometimes so desperately need when you’re alone in your dorm room thinking about him.

And there it is, springing free in all its glory. Though not as overwhelming as transformative erotica, you definitely feel your body hitting overdrive at the sight of something you’ve only seen on the Internet and in anatomy textbooks. Kuroo’s well-endowed, alright. No surprise there. No piercings, either. On one hand, it’s a little disappointing based on how he looks up top, but at the same time, you’d prefer to have your first time consist of just his cock inside of you without the addition of metal. Although, it’d be rad to have  _ that _ sort of story for your first time. Oh well. He’s still gorgeous.

“To answer your question,” Kuroo says as you brush your fingers over the smooth underside, “I was planning on getting one, but I chickened out.”

“Really?” You tear your eyes away from his cock to gaze up at him, looking much more relaxed than you anticipated. Your fingers are still on him, watching his face light up when you tap and rub the tip with one finger. He shifts under you, nodding at your reply. So it  _ is _ sensitive...

“What stopped you from getting one?” you ask.

“I’ll tell you later,” he huffs, then lifts his hips up towards your hand. “Just...please, baby…”

Following his pleas (because, really, like hell you’re going to stop), you take his cock in your hand and start stroking slowly. There isn’t a huge art to it as far as you know, but you’re still careful, stroking his entire length up and down and watching your boyfriend hum quietly. 

“You’re so needy, aren’t you?” you tease. “Have you thought about me doing this?”

He nods right away. “Thought about you using your mouth, too…”

For whatever reason, you moan at that as you pick up your pace and keep your hand steady, the other resting on his thigh as you do your best not to touch yourself while getting him off. You’ve definitely thought about being on your knees for him, looking up through your glasses and making sure you’re making him happy. You want to see his face when he comes, see him totally undone. You didn’t get to see him when he got you off, but in this position now, you’ve got a perfect angle.

The words stall in your throat before you gain a burst of courage through another moan that escapes him. “I’ve thought about sucking you off. I’d want you to come all over my face.”

“Fuck,” he stutters, head tipping back and groaning when you thumb the head again. 

He starts to leak, the translucent fluid slipping over your fingers. You stroke even faster, another hand to cautiously feel his balls (even though you’re not sure if that actually does something for him). “You’d love to fuck my mouth, Kuroo,” you moan, grinding on his leg to help relieve some of that tingling you feel between your legs. “You’re gonna get me all dirty.”

“And you’re gonna love it,” he moans back, lifting his clothes up higher to expose that delicious midsection you’ve been wanting to lick, as well. He’s rocking so much at this point that it looks like you’re riding him, which doesn’t help your case because you want to come, too.

It happens quickly. A lot quicker than you expected, too. You hold his cock tighter, stroking as fast as you can as you squeeze his balls until he alternates between moaning your name and “good girl” and spills onto your hand and onto his abdomen. It’s warm and white and a little messy as you slow down and watch in dumbfounded, inexperienced awe that probably looks so damn cute (or sexy?) in Kuroo’s eyes. A few seconds in and he starts to run empty, chest heaving as he turns and reaches for tissues in the drawer of his nightstand to clean himself and your hand up. While he does that, you bring your hand up to your face, curious and a little grossed out, but willing to lick yourself clean anyway. The taste isn’t unpleasant, but it’s not something you’d want to swallow all the time. Which is fine with you; on the other hand, you could probably eat dinner on Kuroo’s abs and have no problem with it.

Kuroo’s been watching you lick yourself clean as he does the same with the tissues on himself. “Enjoying yourself, kitten?”

Your cheeks heat and you nod, wiping the excess saliva off with an extra tissue resting his abdomen. Now that your hand is all clean, your pussy grabs your attention, pulsing and wet and ready for some sort of relief. Kuroo notices your subtle hints, tossing away the tissues quickly before sitting up and bringing you closer to his chest, his hand finding the waistband of your leggings and kissing you deeply. His tongue laps up whatever’s left of his orgasm on his tongue, your moans vibrating against his lips.

“I want you to come, too,” he murmurs. “Can I?”

Right when you nod, his hand slips down your leggings and your panties to feel all that wetness accumulating between your legs. Your whine sounds outright childish, holding onto his shoulders and craving for that friction. He tries to calm you down with a hold around your hip, quieting you with little kisses. Those efforts are fruitless when he’s got skilled fingers on your clit, rubbing in little circles that make your own head spin.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. You’re just so mesmerized with my cock, aren’t you?”

If you weren’t so close to coming you’d laugh more properly, but it comes out as a huff in between saying his name and gasping out moans like it’s your first time. Or second, really.

He easily gets two fingers inside you to find your gspot and that’s it. You bury your face in his shoulder as you hump his fingers, coming and crying out his name while you cling to his hoodie. Your thighs quake and you want to trap his fingers inside you, relishing in the feeling for as long as you can until you have to force yourself to go back to doing whatever you were doing earlier. When that feeling subsides, you relax on his lap and keep yourself from moving away from him. That is, until you have to.

Kuroo pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them like he did last time and expressing his gratitude with a kiss to your cheek. “Still tasty.”

You smile and take another second before moving, trying to get Kuroo’s clothes back on but failing since he’s not on his feet. With a laugh, he adjusts his clothes with you still on top of him (how he does it, you can only suspect all that lifting he does with Bokuto at the gym). As he does so, you spot that tattoo again on his side. Not wanting to wait any longer to see it in full, you reach for it before he pulls his clothes down.

“What is this?”

Kuroo’s caught off-guard, but he eagerly moves off of you to lie on his side and expose the rest of the tattoo that you’ve been curious about. What you get is something that looks like a beautiful watercolor painting pasted on his skin, red and yellow flowers that hang downwards on a delicate branch that spans his waist. There’s something serene about looking at artwork so simple, something stirring peace and somehow more questions.

“They’re orchids,” he says.

“Wow,” you whisper, touching the length of the branch with your index finger. “It’s amazing.”

“You can thank my artist for doing such a good job.” He smiles and covers himself after you admire the tattoo for a little longer, lying next to him with his arm cradling your own waist. “Do you know what they mean?”

You shake your head.

“Strength,” he answers, kissing you tenderly, “and love and beauty.”

“Mm. All the things you’re full of.”

“That goes for you, too.” Another kiss. And another. “Strong, loving, beautiful.”

For now, you accept his affection and live in the moment that you really do feel beautiful. You get so caught up in Kuroo’s kisses and little reminders of how much he adores you that you forget to ask him why he backed out of getting a piercing you were wondering about before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Apparently, the [ancient Greeks](http://www.teleflora.com/meaning-of-flowers/orchid) also thought orchids to be symbols of virility. It fits Kuroo, don't you think? ;)  
> (Orchids are also my favorite flower)


	4. Perfect Boyfriend Slot Machine, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standing in for Barkly this chapter, we have my girl [happychopsticks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/happychopsticks) as beta reader. Thank you thank you <3
> 
> Heads up: There's mild angst and allusions to family being buttheads in this chapter.
> 
> On a lighter note, we've got an original character in this chapter. Any relation to any other certain character from any other place is purely coincidental ;)

You toss the rejected sweater onto your bed. It joins the pile of other rejected items of clothing while your roommate watches you with a grimace.

“He isn’t going to care,” she says. “If he’s really into you, it’s not going to matter what you wear tonight.”

Nagisa has a point, but that point has its restrictions and exceptions. There are other people who are going to be around the two of you after the date you have planned with him. He’s got a huge group of friends you haven’t been introduced to yet. Some of them might judge you for your outfit. Or anything and everything else. You don’t know and neither does Nagisa. After pulling out what is probably the last outfit in the tiny closet, you groan and drop your head into the clothes, body moving like a hinge. “But this is different. It’s his _birthday_. I should look nice, right? Since I’m, like, “with” him...”

“So?” She sets her laptop aside and takes a step across the room to attempt to walk her fingers through the clothes on your bed. “Isn’t it supposed to all come off, anyway?”

Your head pokes out of the clothes, confused. Your roommate smirks at you as she holds up a dress you don’t think you’ve ever worn before, or ever plan to wear—it’s cute and all and you appreciate your friend getting it for you for your own birthday, but there’s no way you can rock it in the shape you’re in. That’s what you think, at least.

“You guys have been dating for like a month now, right?”

It still sounds weird when she says it like that. “A month and a half,” you correct with a mumble, gazing at something else other than her judging eyes.

“Whatever! All the more reason to not care what you’re going to wear tonight!”

You hop on your bed to sit cross-legged and dumbfounded. “Nagisa, you’re not making any sense. And you usually don’t make sense to begin with.”

“I’m talking about birthday sex!” she shouts, followed by your name because, naturally, everyone on the floor needs to hear this conversation about how your newly-found love life. If you can call it that.

Your face goes white and your heart and stomach convulse like Nagisa just said a word to make you self-destruct. It really does feel like you’re going to explode. This is the first guy who’s ever been...nice to you? Like, genuinely nice and sweet and doing his best to understand you along with calculus? Taking the relationship a step further sounds more like taking a million more steps. It’s only been a month and a half. It’s only a matter of time when you’ll learn something about Kuroo that’ll keep you from wanting to sleep with him. You’re only denying that fact now so you don’t ruin anything at this point in your relationship.

Before you can express your franticness, Nagisa throws the dress she’s been holding in your lap, along with some tights buried underneath all the clothes. “Kuroo-san’s a hottie that’s probably been wanting to get in your pants since he met you, you smart cookie.”

“But,” you stammer, “we haven’t even _kissed_ . How the hell am I supposed to give him _this_?”

You gesture to your body, hands sweeping over your sides and looking at Nagisa worriedly. “Like, I don’t even know if he wants _this_.”

“Psh. Of course he does.” Nagisa starts to put your clothes back in your closet, which is nice but you kind of wish she was putting things back properly without everything still looking so strewn and out of place. “You just need to stop thinking so terribly about yourself.”

“Easier said than done,” you say, looking down at the dress and doing your best to not be bitter towards her statement. The dress is a typical a-line, black with white flowers, made with enough cotton so it won’t feel like you’re suffocating when you throw it on, and you likely _will_ throw it on since this seems like the only decent option. Nagisa’s doing her best to help you, after all. You’ll spend twenty more minutes staring at your closet anyway if it weren’t for her.

“So you two haven’t even kissed?” Nagisa asks, reiterating your words as she digs under her bed for her makeup bag, sparkly and fat with every product you can imagine.

You shake your head, sliding off your bed and grabbing your bathroom bag under your bed to get ready to change. “I mean, he never asks, and I’ve been too scared to.”

“Aww, he’s such a gentleman!” she gushes, then pulls out several bright red lipsticks. “We gotta get you dolled up for his birthday tonight if you wanna give him a kiss.”

The sight of several reds that look almost the same (though they have “different undertones,” Nagisa claims) already gives you anxiety. It won’t be just the lipstick; she’s going to pull out a contour kit and a highlighter and some other shit you’ve only witnessed on YouTube makeup tutorials but never attempted for several reasons, one being that you never have the time or energy to do makeup. The best you usually can do most days is cheap pencil eyeliner and chapstick. Maybe some neutral lip gloss if you’re more daring.

“Do I really need to do all that?” you shift your arms uncomfortably, standing before Nagisa’s bed and all the products she’s already picking and choosing for you.

Nagisa looks up at you and frowns. She might be tiny and talkative, but she can be intimidating when she wants to be. Or, more so when she wants to do things her way. “I _never_ get to do makeup on anyone else! Pleaseeee? I _promise_ Kuroo-san will eat that cute little face of yours up before the night ends! Who knows, maybe he’ll eat a little more of you...”

You ignore the innuendo and the blood that rushes to your cheeks. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself. A kiss doesn’t seem like a lofty goal. And getting a makeover sounds kind of fun. Come to think of it, the last time you put on a full face of makeup was when...hmm. Was there ever an occasion during your teenage years that you needed all that stuff on your face? A school dance, maybe. And even then it was just cheap eyeshadow and a different color of lip gloss. Deciding to indulge Nagisa, you nod and pivot to get to the bathroom.

“Fine. But don’t make me take off my glasses. I don’t wear contacts.”

You can hear her squealing as you shut the door and shuffle down the hall.

 

It’s as if five pounds have been added to your face. But you have to admit—you look different. A good-ish kind of different. Nagisa’s contouring skills slimmed down your face some and the wings created by the eyeliner (which compliment your glasses, somehow) make you want to fly out of your seat on the train and straight to the address you’ve instructed Kuroo to go to. You two would have gone together, but getting ready took so long you had to profusely apologize to Kuroo and simply say that you’ll just meet him up there. He didn’t mind it at all.

To top off your entire look, Nagisa found the perfect shade of red for your lips. You had to scrub your arm off after all that swatching, but all that work is now going to be put to the test. You do your best not to look at other people who might be looking at you, and turn your music up so that your headphones can shield you from any voices that you’ll mistake for voices referring to you. It took a little more convincing in front of a mirror before heading out, but Nagisa really did do an amazing job dressing you up for Kuroo’s birthday. You just hope that he likes how you look, too.

But that’s the problem. Or, really, part of the problem. Though the music in your ears is doing its best to distract you, you can’t help but wonder where all of this is going. You have fun with Kuroo outside of tutoring and you like that he isn’t a jackass. Like, at all. You should be drowning in good feelings as if you hit the jackpot in the perfect boyfriend slot machine with your first pull.

Heh. Boyfriend. You can’t even text that to your friends, still. It’s weird. This all feels...weird. Too weird.

And you nearly miss your stop thinking about it. Before the doors to the train shut, you hop out with your dress floating under your black coat. You’re starting to rethink that “beauty is pain” mantra Nagisa kept nagging you about when she was plucking your eyebrows, because maybe the chill that hits your legs (even though you’re wearing tights) isn’t all that worth it. At least you make it to your date spot without freezing to death.

A few blocks away from the train station, down a few lesser-known streets tourists look, there’s a gallery that specializes in the avant-garde. Tonight, which lines up perfectly with Kuroo’s birthday, is a special exhibit that showcases the talents of several senior artists from an art school somewhere close to the university you and Kuroo attend. You take a moment to catch your breath outside the gallery; power walking was a pain in the ass.

Kuroo’s already inside, staring at a painting you don’t have any particular interest in. Amongst the other quiet patrons around the gallery, you step closer to him, standing about a half-foot away from him when you examine the painting, as well. You really don’t see the hype; it looks like someone simply asked a four-year-old to play with a paint roller on a huge canvas.

“Does their use of blue mean sadness?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head. “It looks more like freedom to me.”

It’s a valid interpretation, you suppose, and when Kuroo turns to look at you to continue his commentary, he ceases. His eyes widen and he looks as if he’s about to devour you right then and there. You let him stare, let him judge you for all you are while you try not to run into the wall and call yourself a live, interpretive piece that signifies your anxiety and extreme overthinking. Makeup was a mistake. Maybe he’ll say some fuckboy nonsense about how you look better without it. Or he’ll force a compliment out of himself that’ll make you want to vomit on some sculpture that looks like melted ice cream scoops.

“Now, _this_ work,” he starts off quietly, hooking his finger under the sleeve of your coat and circling you like a vulture, “is one of a kind. Complex. Different layers to her.”

He lets go of your coat and opts for flipping a layer of your hair back behind your ear. The powder blush and your natural one on your cheeks are indiscernible right now. He continues, “I don’t quite understand her fully just by looking at her, but I know one thing’s for sure—I could look at her forever.”

That’s it. There we go. You are actually in some alternate dimension in which Kuroo is able to see how much time you’ve spent on your look that he’s complimenting you in the cheesiest (but smoothest) way possible. It’s better than hearing the word “beautiful.”

“You look really nice,” Kuroo says, punctuating his mini-analysis of you and pulling on your coat again. “Is this all for me?”

You shrug, hiding the triumphant smile on your face and looking somewhere else. “I guess. You know I usually don’t wear makeup.”

“Lies,” he replies immediately. “I know eyeliner when I see it. Believe me—you should’ve seen me in my third year of high school.”

That breaks you into a wider smile, looking up at him with bright red lips and cheekbones that shine like diamonds in the light. “Alright, fine. Nagisa helped me.”

“She did a good job.” He brings you a step closer to him, leaning forward and tilting his forehead so that it brushes against yours, “You look beautiful.”

Too soon. Doubt bubbles in your stomach, but you don’t dwell on it too much so you don’t ruin his birthday. Instead, you take the compliment with a weary smile, immediately finding something else to talk about by glancing at a painting displayed not too far away from him. On that side, there’s a series of paintings, all of which seemed to be another sort of bastardization of Jackson Pollock. “Look, some splatter art! Or abstract. Whatever.”

Kuroo pivots to look in the direction you’re looking, taking on step over and encouraging you to follow with a tilt of his head. “You’re probably right. Let’s see if we can find some meaning in all that.”

 

You two spend a good hour and a half staring at different artwork. The artists weren’t around to explain any of their work, so you both went off of titles to attempt to analyze or criticize to the best of your ability. Both of your stomachs start to rumble, which means it’s time for bar food and beer. You’re not so much a drinker yourself, but at least you can spend time with Kuroo and his friends and see him fully immersed in his element.

And amongst his friends, whom you’ve only met a few of. That’s the scary part. You can hang out with Akaashi, Kuroo’s roommate’s boyfriend, but even that can feel intimidating. He doesn’t say very much and neither do you, and half the time he looks like he’s judging everyone, including you. Bokuto is like Kuroo on ten cups of coffee, which makes for a volatile combination when he's with his brotato. You can't imagine what he's like hyped on whatever his drink of choice is.

Kuroo seems to notice the unusual silence emanating from your stone cold face. You feel something warm cup your hand, fingers spreading so his own can fill in the gaps. It's not often that you two hold hands. An act so simple already sends pangs of intimacy that hit you in a new, uncanny way. You're starting to get used to it, though. Kuroo seems to like it. To some extent, so do you.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you reply immediately, not trying to look so wound up.

He shrugs. “You seem tense. Are you scared of meeting more people?”

“Uhh, no?” (Yes.)

Kuroo stops in the middle of the sidewalk and turns his head to give you this telling look that screams _I know you’re lying and I think you’re uncomfortable._ More guilty than uncomfortable this time, since you can’t look him in the eye. He says your name to make you do so.

“You know I don’t really go out,” you say.

“I know. That’s why I want to make sure you’re okay with coming with me. I promise all my friends will like you.”

He says that now, but you’re still not sure. Nagisa told you something earlier while she was dusting setting powder all over your face—if you feel like going home, just remember there’s over two hundred US dollars’ worth of makeup on your face and you want everyone to see it before you wipe it all off. So that’s a little sobering.

Kuroo pulls you a little closer to him so the scores of people that walk in every direction possible on this sidewalk won’t bump into you as they carelessly walk around you. You can smell the hint of body spray on his coat, not too strong but enough to calm you somehow.

“We can ditch ‘em,” he suggests. “You and I can roam around Shibuya and just do that.”

You shake your head and look up at him. “You and I both know that’s rude. They planned this for you. We’re going to the bar. I promise I’ll be okay, Kuroo.”

Taking a second to process your answer, he nods and gives you a quick hug before stringing you along the way, keeping you close to his side.

 

The bar is decently occupied, with one little corner particularly saturated with more college students than normal. Right when Kuroo walks through the door with you, there's a loud chorus of his name, followed by cheers of “birthday boy” and other variations to greet him. A different light is in Kuroo’s smile, propelling himself forward and hugging and high-fiving all his friends. You quickly follow, offering your friendliest smile to all the unfamiliar faces.

Then a familiar one pops out of the crew, bear-hugging you out of the blue and bouncing up and down. “You made it!”

The hug catches you off guard but you accept it. That body spray that smells similar to Kuroo’s is a lot stronger on Bokuto. Probably because he drowned himself in it. “Yeah. Thanks for having me.”

He pulls back and holds you by the shoulders, smiling wide and wedging you in with all the bodies surrounding three bar tables, already occupied with food and drinks that everyone paid for—Kuroo (and you) won’t be paying a cent tonight for anything. Their treat. It all smells really good and you’re ready to take a stick of tsukune until Bokuto totes you around and introduces you to a few of Kuroo’s friends.

“That’s my boyfriend, but you already know that,” Bokuto muses as he blows a kiss across the table. Akaashi drinks his water and waves to you, expressionless as ever, then catches the aforementioned kiss. Bokuto gushes. A quarter turn and now there are new people to say hi to—two more handsome men sharing drinks, one of them complaining about how the other’s drink is too strong. He’s the first to make eye contact with you and shake your hand.

“I’m Oikawa Tooru,” he greets, placing both his hands in yours and nudging the other guy out of his way (much to his annoyance). “Your makeup looks wonderful! American products?”

You nod, introducing yourself then talking briefly about the makeup you’re wearing. It’s good Nagisa narrated your entire routine like a beauty vlogger, otherwise you wouldn’t have known that your lipstick is liquid to matte and that your foundation is full coverage. Oikawa mentions something backhanded about how it’s good that you’re using concealer before introducing you to the other gentleman next to him, Iwaizumi, who gives you a friendly smile and apologizes for his boyfriend’s behavior.

“He’s going to blame it on the alcohol, but he’s really just an asshole sometimes.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa stomps his foot and clenches his fists at him. “I was about to say that her concealer brings out the brightness in her eyes!”

“I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, but you still sound like an asshole.”

He folds his arms in some display of spoiled exasperation before a hand finds yours again. This time, it’s not Bokuto trying to whisk you around since he’s eating something else off a stick while Akaashi watches. Kuroo smiles and turns you in a different direction, offering you a drink. It looks fruity and not _too_ alcoholic, so you accept it and take the tsukune he follows up with.

“I see you’ve met some of the volleyball team,” Kuroo says, grabbing his beer of choice and taking a drink. “Lively bunch, huh?”

You nod, sipping your drink to test the waters. You can probably stomach this one drink and then stick to water like Akaashi. The tsukune tastes pretty good, too. “You’re friends with a lot of them. Why’s that?”

It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him hesitate so uneasily about a question. He drinks to fill the silence before shrugging. “I played a little bit in high school.”

You didn’t know that about him, but for some reason, you have the feeling that you shouldn’t bring it up again. The atmosphere is still upbeat as ever, though, Kuroo now introducing you to more of his friends and people you’ve actually met before in your classes. As promised, they’re all very nice and much more approachable than you anticipated. At some point in the night, while you’re having a second glass of whatever you’re drinking and talking to a pretty girl who’s got just as many tattoos and piercings as Kuroo does (if not more), Bokuto and Iwaizumi flex and arm wrestle while Kuroo referees. It’s a battle that gets nearly the entire bar’s attention, ending with Iwaizumi’s victory and Bokuto’s demands for a rematch and another drink.

You’re so caught up in the fun that you forget about all the unwanted thoughts about your appearance and personality. The food is good and the drinks are bearable and the people are people you’re more than okay with seeing again.

It’s the most fun you’ve had all semester so far. Your head is fuzzy and you can’t walk a totally straight line by the time you leave the bar with Kuroo, everyone buzzing a happy birthday towards him before they all go their separate, drunken ways.

 

Morning arrives too soon. Or maybe it’s the afternoon. You don’t know. You wake up in your own bed, your clothes still on from last night and your eyes automatically feeling irritated. Trying to keep them shut doesn’t help. Ready to face your hangover and all the makeup that’s still on your face (which is, impressively, most of it), you start to rise from bed, only to be smacked in the face by a package of makeup remover wipes.

Nagisa’s voice is much too loud, even when you aren’t sporting a headache and upset stomach. “Get that off your face, now! Your boyfriend’s gonna come over soon!”

Your brain can’t process that information at the moment. All you can do is look down and stare at the makeup remover wipes on your lap. Nagisa shouts your name and you respond then, pushing her away and yanking one wipe to do as she says. It takes away the irritation. Not so much the headache.

“You two got really frisky last night. Didn’t even notice that I was still in the room.”

You stop and freeze, blinking your eyes open and grabbing your glasses to glare at Nagisa properly. “What?”

“Yeah, you two barged into the room and wouldn’t stop cuddling each other. But when you started talking about birthday sex, Kuroo backed out and he slept on our floor.”

Confusion and awe paint your half-cleaned face. All that smearing on your face makes you look even more like a madwoman.

“But don’t worry!” Nagisa added with a grin, a hand on her hip and posing proudly. “I gave him a pillow and a blanket so he wouldn’t have to feel so uncomfortable!”

Those details go over your head since you’re still thinking about what you said last night while you were drunk. You clutch the wipe in your hand and “I was talking about sex? With Kuroo?”

“ _Birthday_ sex,” Nagisa corrected. “From what I got out of it, you said something about that being your gift or whatever to him, but then he said no and fell onto the floor. Then the two of you passed out. But you didn’t say anything nasty. A shame.”

You’ve had a few drinks before, but never amongst other people. It was a more solitary activity for you, so you never have a chance at losing your filter. You didn’t even know that was your drunk thing. Maybe it isn’t and that was just a one-time thing. Not like you’ve ever been in this situation before. It sounds surreal and you almost want to interrogate Nagisa to see if she’s completely lying to you. No time, though; she’s dressed and grabbing her purse while you protest to keep her in the room and tell you more about last night and what the hell you should do. How do hangovers work? With a boyfriend? What do you do now since you didn’t even get to kiss him last night?

“No! I gotta see Ryu-chan today. Kuroo-san told me that he was gonna bring back breakfast for the two of you after he cleans up. You should do the same.”

“But Nagisa—”

“No buts!” she interrupts, saying your name with her arms flung in the air. “He’s perfect for you. You’ll have the whole dorm to yourself today so you guys can do whatever you like.”

Nagisa blows a kiss in your direction then heads for the door, but not before you call her name again while you attempt to wipe away more eyeliner and mascara. You conclude that it’s going to take more than one wipe to get your face makeup-free.

“Did we kiss last night?” you ask her.

Nagisa leans on the doorframe and thinks about it for a second, then shakes her head. “Nope! But now that you guys are sober, maybe you can spend the day making out here.”

There’s no powder blush that blends in with your natural one when you do so. “You’re not gonna be back for a while?”

She shakes her head again and adjusts her bra over her shirt, winking at you. “I told you, I’m gotta see Ryu-chan. I miss him. If you and Kuroo-san are gonna get it on, I have some condoms in my drawer.”

“Nagisa!” You can’t help but throw the package of wipes in her direction, only to knock over her stack of notes on her desk while she casually shuts the door and heads out.

 

***

 

The holidays aren’t supposed to be _this_ agonizing.

But for some reason this year, they are. They’re terribly agonizing.

You’re back at home, extended family included, for the break. You wish you could have stayed in your dorm for the month and just have a whole floor to yourself while everyone’s away. Unfortunately, that’s not a thing students do. Or are allowed to do, for that matter.

The thing is, that’s not the worst part. Kuroo’s going back home, too, but he doesn’t live too far from the university. For you, it’s a four-hour drive to Sendai with your parents asking you a million questions you’ve answered before. You don’t want to start having long-distance feelings with him because it’ll only be a month, but it still sucks not being able to come up to his dorm for a little sleepover when you can’t sleep in your own. The texts help, though. And all his cat emojis and hearing the sound of his voice when you call each other. Which isn’t too frequent to be clingy, but enough so that you can get away from your relatives and family friends who want to barge in on your life.

They don’t know a damn thing about Kuroo and you aren’t going to let them know.

It’s hard. With all the questions they’re throwing at you, if you’ve gained more weight (or if you’re planning to lose any) and what you’re going to do after college and _if you have a boyfriend,_ you might as well make a powerpoint presentation and give a rousing lecture of all the things that aren’t their business and then follow-up with an argument as to why they’re all being dicks. You’ll likely fall on deaf ears and get some nonsense about how they’re “just joking” or use the “we’re family” card. One measly day in (out of the three), and you’re already hanging by a thread as far as your sanity goes.

Luckily, you’ve got someone to rant to after hours in your backyard, since you don’t want to wake your cousins sleeping in your room and risk having them ask who you’re talking to. You also don’t want to hear them judge you for all the things you like based on what’s displayed around your room. Listening to Kuroo’s voice calms you significantly, your laugh a result of his own and the reason for the tension that melts away a part of all your frustrations.

“So basically,” you say, curled up in a blanket on the backyard porch swing, “you didn’t want to get one because you didn’t want to pee differently.”

“It fucks with your urethra!” Kuroo defends. You can hear the strain in his voice as he tries to keep quiet. It is late, after all. “Being in the bathroom is supposed to be a peaceful time. I don’t want to disrupt that.”

“And you’re _sure_ it’s not because you won’t be able to have sex or touch yourself for at least a month?”

Kuroo says your name and you can hear the fake distress that makes you giggle some more. “Unlike whatever fantasy you had about me before I started dating you, I am _not_ a sexual deviant. I know how to keep it in my pants, thank you very much.”

“Uh huh.” The swing creaks when you adjust to lie down, a soft pillow cushioning your head while you look up at nothing. “I never thought you were a sexual deviant, by the way.”

“That’s a damn lie and you know it.”

You blush. “So you think you know everything about me now?”

“I know that you think I’m hot, even without the dick piercing.”

“Oh my god, Kuroo.” You put your palm to your face and slide it up to your hair, wishing it was Kuroo who were doing this. “I should sleep.”

“With me?”

“You’re pushing it,” you grumble, reluctantly sitting yourself up and grabbing the blanket. It’s getting too cold to be outside, anyway. “But...yeah. You know. Whenever.”

“Whenever,” Kuroo repeats softly. You can feel the smile through the phone and you wish some sort of winter goddess can apparate this second on this porch, grant you the power of teleportation so that you can see him right now, and give him a kiss. Since that’s all fiction, the stupid, sappy kissy noise he makes will do for tonight. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Sleep well, kitten.”

“You too.”

There’s a brief moment of silence that passes before you hang up first. It isn’t awkward, but it’s as if some things have been left unsaid. When you head inside, greeted by the comfort of a heater and your cat at your feet, you wonder if the noise you heard over the phone was the sound of Kuroo inhaling before saying something, or if it was just the wind.

Day two of being with the family and you’re done. That’s it. Case closed. They can go fuck themselves.

You would think that growing up surrounded by unsavory people and mediocre media representation would make you more resilient to the things everyone else would say and do. Maybe you haven’t lived long enough to have a maximum power shield for that. Or you haven’t found some powerup to make you invincible, even if it’s only temporary. Surely, a premium subscription to a less crappy home life could have prevented all of this from happening, right?

Nope.

Again, that’s all fiction. It’s not real.

Nobody puts in the effort to chase you down when you storm out of the house, away from your entire family. That’s probably a good thing—you can only imagine their apology to end with some disclaimer that you should have had thicker skin or that you should have seen this coming. You’re only delaying that apology; you know when you come home they’re going to throw all the hugs you don’t want and the smiles you’d like to punch square in the face. Some life you live in which your family doesn’t know how to deal with your sensitivity, despite raising you all these years.

You’re not sure where you’re going next when you reach the train station. It’s mid-afternoon during the holiday season; there are tourists around figuring out to get to Tokyo and others are hurrying to get home to their families. With no real destination in mind, you opt for Tokyo and you’ll go from there. There are still a huge number of shops and places open for the holidays that you can crash and explore, as well. You might as well play tourist with the time you have alone. Perhaps your family insulting you to the point where you’re driven out of the house is a blessing in disguise; you’ll be like those Internet-famous people struck with wanderlust and you can take photos with a hundred filters on it so it looks more aesthetically pleasing.

The train from Sendai to Tokyo isn’t too crowded. You’re able to catch a seat on the corner of the car, headphones in so nobody disturbs you and your phone that has temporarily turned into an e-reader. Opened up is the newest chapter from another one of your favorite authors, who graciously posted this plus a oneshot as a gift for the holidays to their readers. Reading passes the time easily. Once you’re done grinning at your screen and leaving your appropriate likes, you put on your favorite album and look out the window across from you, scenery flying by and slowly becoming more urban and busy. You don’t talk to anybody, don’t call or text anyone. They’re busy celebrating the holidays with their own family. You don’t want to bother them. It’s your alone time, remember? A good time to reflect and be on your own.

A little before you reach Tokyo, you decide to take the half hour and travel down to Shibuya. It tends to be a little more lively during this time of year; Christmas lights decorate the trees and there are people on every corner dressed like a certain, jolly holiday figure. When you step off the train and hear sleigh bells and cries of good cheer, warmth spreads through your cold, achy heart.

Around town, people are eating and giving away treats, singing at the top of their lungs, or running through the station with last minute gifts. You kindly decline any food presented your way and swing a few blocks away from the station and down familiar, lesser known streets. The gallery you and Kuroo went to for his birthday is open and as lively as ever. Luckily, they have a special exhibit like they did last month for those art students.

This time, it’s a photography exhibit. Holiday-themed, of course. You take the time and peruse through the photos of all different types of families around the world celebrating the holidays so differently. The photos themselves aren’t anything spectacular; in fact, there’s one part of the exhibit that looks like a collection of festive throwback Thursdays from Instagram. But each time you take a look at a photo, noticing all the smiles from opening gifts and the love that so obviously flows out of the picture, that warmth you were feeling when you got off the train starts to wear away. It feels cold again.

You leave the gallery after a once-around, inhaling frosty air to keep you from crying in the midst of other people making their way around the city. Now you really don’t have any real place to go to. Walking aimlessly with a sea of people, you continue declining those giving away food, tune out the music blasting on every speaker from every building, ignore the low growl in your stomach—

Someone takes you by the hand and you immediately turn around to smack them across the face.

A moment goes by. A very slow, very painful moment. Your feet are frozen into the cement and you can’t walk or run away from the person who touched you. Blinking away tears to get a better focus on him and apologize for such a sudden act, he rotates his jaw and rubs the bright red spot you left on his cheek. When he opens his mouth, you notice a red and green stud going through the middle of his tongue.

Only one person you know would change his piercing to fit the holidays.

“Oof. That hand of yours needs to chill. Get it?” He points around him as if you can see the cold. “Chill?”

You don’t know if your sobs are happy or sad when you throw your arms around Kuroo and hold onto him tightly.

 

The apartment he and his mother share overlooks Tokyo like you’ve never seen before. You knew the city was huge compared to Sendai, but staring out the sliding door to the balcony gives you a different perspective. You feel like everyone who’s here for the first time—totally in awe of the view that you’ve only seen in movies. It’s breathtaking and goes on for miles, hues of blue with white making it picture perfect for the winter.

His mother is nice. And that’s an understatement. It’s a little soon, in your opinion, to be meeting his family, but it’s too cold and too crowded to be out and about. Compared to your own family, Kuroo’s is tiny. Tonight, he’ll be home alone with you since his mother has to work. His aunt and cousins already stopped by briefly the day before, so he’s home free for the rest of the break when it comes to family visits.

“Did you know that the hospital doesn’t close during the holidays?” she asks you, hands on her hips and looking very proud...and sarcastic.

You play along and smile, setting your hot chocolate down on your lap while holding the cat mug in your hands. Kuroo’s got an arm around you and resting comfortably on the couch, watching some holiday special going on TV. “I had no idea. Wait...you guys are open 24 hours?”

She nods with a smile that Kuroo must have ripped off from her when he was born. “Right? It’s a crazy concept that some people actually don’t know!”

You laugh and take another sip of your drink. It’s just the right amount of sweet, with whipped cream at the top to make the “cutest mustache,” according to both of them. It’s almost uncanny how the two get along so well. Most of what you know about Kuroo’s family, based on what he’s told you, is that she’s really been his rock his whole life. He’s had a couple of arguments with her here and there, but you can tell that she totally cares about him without being so smothering or so laid back. She stands and smooths down her red scrubs, leaning over Kuroo to smack a kiss to his forehead and to yours, as well.

“Make sure you eat before you leave here,” she tells you firmly. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge. I always make sure Tetsurou doesn’t starve when I’m at work, and I’ll make sure of that with you, too.”

You respond with a curt “Yes ma’am” while she grabs her purse and points at Kuroo. “You take good care of her,” she says. “You’re riding the train with her when she has to go back.”

“I know.”

“I know you do. Be safe.”

The two of you wave goodbye to her and you’re now left alone with Kuroo, snuggled up on the couch with some hot chocolate and watching TV. Is this it? Is your downward spiral at home turning into some weird, domestic fanfiction of your dreams? You can’t say for sure. But you enjoy the silence you have with him, the TV going to some show you’re vaguely familiar with but haven’t watched because of all the studying you did during the semester. Kuroo doesn’t say anything for the time being about finding you by chance in Shibuya. For the record, his mom thoroughly enjoyed that coat he bought on sale at her favorite store there.

A commercial appears on screen and you set your now-empty mug down on the coffee table in front of you. Kuroo breaks the silence.

“Are you feeling better?”

Significantly better. You nod and rest your head on his shoulder.

“You still haven’t eaten yet.”

Ugh. Maybe not as significantly better. You turn and hide your face. “I’ll eat when you and your mom stop bugging me about it.”

“Sorry.” He rubs your arm apologetically and kisses the top of your head. “I’m sorry that whole deal happened to you, too.”

“You had no part in it,” you say immediately. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing.”

“Well. I apologize on your family’s behalf. You’ve already slapped me. Would you like to take your anger out on me some more? I can take it.”

You snort and shake your head. “Don’t be masochistic about this.”

“Maybe I’m into that.” He suddenly nudges you to shift so that you can sit on his lap but you decline. He doesn’t push it any further and continues, “Like some of those boys in that smutty stuff you read. Maybe I want you to tie me up and call me a dirty boy.”

“Kuroo!” You poke his cheek and puff out your own. “Honestly. Do you say all those things just to embarrass me?”

“Not to embarrass you,” he says innocently, then cups your cheek and pecks your lips. “To arouse you.”

“It’s not—” you pause when you return the kiss, this time lingering before finishing your thought. “It’s not working.”

“Really?” His other hand drops to the top of your thigh. “What if I told you that I want you to stay tonight?”

It’s a nice thought, but you shake your head. You shouldn’t be _that_ selfish and be totally away from your family during the holidays, even after the stunt they pulled in regards to one of your biggest insecurities. Kuroo’s probably joking, anyway.

But he isn’t.

And you know when he pulls away and takes your hands, squeezing them gently and looking into your eyes, saying your name with all that affection he has for you. It continues to be a surprising amount.

“I’m serious, baby. Do you want to stay tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c
> 
>  
> 
> Fun fact: Liquid lipstick is my jam and I wish I had 283743947 dollars to buy every color and brand
> 
> The holidays have been a little hectic for me, so hopefully I'll be able to finish the next chapter by Christmas. Until then, I hope everyone has a safe and wonderful holiday. Spend it with the people you love!!


	5. Perfect Boyfriend Slot Machine, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH IT'S FINALLY HERE
> 
> I'm so sorry this took a little longer than expected—I came down with a cold and I've been really busy outside the fanfiction world, so I could only work on this little by little! It's a long chapter, but with good reason :)))
> 
> I also realized towards the end of the chapter that I messed up on Japanese college semesters/scheduling but shhh let's enjoy the smut for now
> 
> I have two beta readers to thank for this chapter - Barkly and Sabby! Thank you thank you, my loves <3

Hungover Kuroo looks more put-together than you would think.

That, or maybe you don’t notice how his hair is more messed up than usual. Be that as it may, there’s something cute about him grumbling through the door and holding up a bag of breakfast. He’s also got a caddy of coffee from the spot you two go to for tutoring. Neither of you speaks within the first ten minutes of seeing each other since last night. You both may have showered away some of the grogginess that comes after a night of fun, but hot water doesn’t take away a demanding stomach and an out-of-focus brain. The muffin helps. Sort of.

After what’s probably your fifth generous sip of coffee, Kuroo speaks up, putting his own cup down and touching your dorm floor. Eating on the bed isn’t a great option when you’re both disoriented and you both need coffee and something to eat with both your hands.

“The floor’s more comfortable than you think, you know.”

Not that you have any experience with that, but you nod anyway as you rip off another piece of your muffin. 

“I had a lot of fun, you know,” he says, tracing the hard carpet and keeping his eyes down. “You don’t owe me anything.”

You’re ready to agree with him and say your piece, but that last part has you looking up from your food. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t remember it well, but,” he looks up at you and smiles gently, “you said something about...um. Sex?”

It’s like every word he says, even casually, causes you to blush and lose some of your motor skills. He’s right, though. Nagisa confirmed that earlier. You try not to break eye contact with him when you smile back and reply, “Birthday sex. I know.”

“What made you think that I wanted that from you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just—I was drunk?”

“Bullshit,” he says immediately. You’ve never heard him sound so serious and it makes you more nervous. “It doesn’t matter if you were drunk or not. Is that all you want out this relationship?”

“No,” you say immediately. It's as if  _ he _ did something wrong and you can't believe you have to reassure him. Of all people! “God, Kuroo, no. Please. Why would someone like me just throw my first relationship for sex?”

“People throw a lot of things just for sex.”

Can’t argue there. The thing is, you’re not one of those people. You’re far from it. You could have a million dollars and literally be able to  _ pay _ for sex and you still couldn’t do it, no matter how lonely you were. Kuroo’s train of thought on of all of this is draws a few questions about what he’s been through, but there’s no time to dig deeper when he asks you something else.

“What do you mean, ‘someone like you?’”

“Um,” you stammer, looking down at yourself, changed out from your dress to some more comfortable leggings and a huge, thick sweater of your favorite color, “you know what I mean, Kuroo. We’ve talked about this.”

You remember the night pretty clearly—your third date, sneaking up onto the roof of the dorm building to watch the stars. The two of you made up some of the dumbest names for fake constellations that would piss off his friend, who you know now to be Oikawa. That’s when the conversation first came up.

“And what did I say?” he pushes.

As if you’re searching for the answer in your lap, you tell him, “You said...that there’s no one like me.”

“Uh huh. What else?”

“I’m…” it sounds a lot more sappy and stupid now that you think about it, but it worked, “I’m a lot more special than I think, regardless of how I see myself.”

“Yep.” He reaches out and pokes your nose. “You’re my own special little snowflake.”

You huff, pushing his hand away and looking up at him with a half-smile. Honestly, the words don’t really take any effect at all right now, but it is a good thought to file away for later when you’re feeling not-so-great. “Sorry. About the birthday sex thing. I don’t know. Nagisa mentioned it to me last night and I guess it slipped out.”

“We haven’t even kissed.”

“Exactly! That’s what I told her.”

You see him relax significantly, laughing again and bringing his shoulders down from some defensive mode you didn’t know he had. “It would’ve sucked if we kissed last night, anyway. I wouldn’t be able to remember it.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

The room goes oddly quiet, the two of you looking at each other. You have no idea what Kuroo’s thinking, but the hopeful part of your brain is screaming that this is the magical moment you’ve been waiting for since you were old enough to watch all those teen romcoms. Sitting on the floor, a little less hungover after a breakfast your boyfriend graciously bought for you, the sun hitting him just right so that he looks like an ethereal beauty who’s been put on this earth to give you your first kiss and so much more…

Yet you’re as frozen as that one princess who needs to let it go. Hell,  _ you _ need to let it go. This is it! It’s the best time to bring it up and ask! Why are you not moving or making any moves? Why is  _ he  _ not making any moves? What is this, some kind of romcom stalemate? Kuroo can’t actually be nervous, right?

No, he isn’t, judging by how he leans forward and searches for your hands to hold. The two of you have been going so slow, you’re nearly surprised that he doesn’t pounce on you like you’re the tastiest prey out there. It’s more than clear to you that he’s better than that. Or, he’s just got some killer self-control.

“So, like,” he starts, like he’s somehow transformed into the nerdy nobody and you’re the hot chick, “if you’re feeling better, I can give you that kiss. If you want.”

Kuroo Tetsurou, you idiot. Yes. A thousand times yes. Nothing would give you greater pleasure than getting your first kiss in the late morning after a drunken night out. You would say all of those things to him, but your brain detours and goes with “I should be the one offering you to kiss me. It’s your birthday, after all. I thought you could have...well. Me.”

He scoots forward and laughs again, louder and more so in disbelief. “You’re really funny. I’ve already got you, and you took me out to a really cool exhibit last night.  _ And _ you hung out with my friends. You don’t need to give me anything else.”

“Right,” you agree too quickly. “Like, I don’t know even know  _ how _ to do it. It seems so easy in movies. And fanfiction.”

“Uhh, because it is?” Kuroo swoops closer to you, your knees touching his and your chin tilted up ever-so-slightly thanks to his long fingers. As if you went from zero to a hundred in a millisecond, your entire face resembles a cherry, ready to burst.

“Kuroo,” you crack, “I—”

“Kitten,” he says, and it’s completely unfair that he’s calling you that for the first time right before your first kiss because you can feel a spark lighting in your crotch that’s a thousand times more invigorating than reading smut at 2am. “Relax. May I?”

This is so much better than any of those scenarios you’ve ever thought of in bed at night. Or in the shower. Or on long drives. With a short nod against his fingertips, he smiles, hazel eyes entrancing yours before they close and you wait for pure magic to happen.

And  _ holy fucking shit _ does it happen. You squeeze his hand still holding your other one when his lips touch yours, almost shooting your eyes open in disbelief with how soft his lips feel and how gentle he’s being. Actual fireworks can go off in this room now. You did it. You’re  _ doing  _ it, though you have no fucking clue what you’re doing.

Kuroo moves his fingers from under your chin and slinks down to hold the back of your neck, urging you forward. Following all his moves because he obviously knows more about this than you do, you lean into his kiss, puckering up and kissing back with the same amount of gentleness. The only difference is that Kuroo knows what else to do beyond gentle. 

That kiss could last a lifetime, when in reality it was only a few seconds of absolute perfection. Kuroo pulls away and you impulsively lean more to catch his lips, which he finds totally cute, based on the peck he gives you. There goes your second kiss. You’re not even mad.

“See?” he says, grinning. “Not so hard, right?”

You shake your head. “I think I need more practice.”

He holds you by the cheeks, thumbs brushing under your eyes. “We’ve got all day.”

_ Now _ you’re glad that Nagisa won’t be back for a while. 

 

***

 

More thought-out, practical decision-making leads to the two of you rethinking his question. You like Kuroo’s mom, but you don’t really want to be seen with her son in the morning the evening after you met her, even though she already knows a lot about you and she already loves you. It also might not be a good idea to completely abandon your family. In spite of their absolute nonsense, you  _ do _ have at least one little cousin to come back for. You’ve got to give your presents to them, after all. 

In the end, though, you’re still gonna get laid.

And it’s fucking  _ exciting _ .

And scary.

Like, you’re gonna let the hottest, sweetest guy see you bareass naked and hear you scream his name like all those porn scenes that overdo absolutely everything. Except you don’t have the body of a typical porn star. Hell, you don’t even have the vision of a typical person. Kuroo’s going to do everything in his power to make you feel good and better about yourself, but is it going to be enough?

Probably. For a few minutes, at least.

The sun sets behind the two of you when you’re making out in his bed. Like his dorm room, the sheets are dark and soft and you really wish you could stay the night with him under these covers that’ll keep you safe and warm. There are more posters and pictures around both of you, more art you have some understanding for and bands you’re familiar with now because you’ve spent your free time giving them a listen. Lavender and jasmine candles, which you’ve found out are the same scents as those candles back in his dorm, keep you relaxed and melting into his bed and playing with his hair while he shifts his weight on top of you. He uses one knee to keep your legs apart and wanting.

He pulls away suddenly, looking down at you with a gaze you want to burn in your head forever so you can remember it whenever you two are apart. “Do the candles help?”

You impulsively inhale and take in that lovely smell of flowers. “I think so. But I think you’re doing a better job at keeping me relaxed.”

“That’s not all the candles are supposed to do.” 

He smiles and comes back down, lips shifting to your neck as he massages your hips with deft hands. Like what all the fanfiction has told you to do, you tilt your head to the opposite side of where he’s kissing, resting comfortably on the pillow as more nerves are set on fire because of those kisses. You close your eyes and let him press his open mouth against your skin, quiet moans flowing into the pillow like a song you’re afraid to let Kuroo listen to.

Your fingers tighten in his hair when he uses his teeth. The moan that comes out of you must have been embarrassingly loud, since he lifts himself back up and turns your face over to him. “Sorry. Got carried away. Did it hurt?”

You take a moment to feel for whatever bite marks he may have left on your neck. Those stupid books and fanfiction make it sound so sexy to be bitten on the neck by some seductive vampire or rugged werewolf, where in fact it kind of hurts. Or maybe it’s because you’re a wuss and this is your first time for, well, everything. 

No, it kind of hurts.

You nod meekly when you brush over the bite marks he so clearly left on the lower portion of your neck. It’ll be a bitch to cover up. Alternatively, you can leave it uncovered and show off to your family that you  _ are _ someone who’s capable of gaining someone’s love. Lust. Whatever. Kuroo’s got both for you.

“Aww, I’m sorry, baby. Let me make it go away.” He holds your fingers and pulls them away from the mark, going back down to lick and kiss away the pain. 

You bite your lip and hide a little cry. Is that supposed to feel good? Because it feels good. Why is this making you so wet?

Whatever that reason may be, Kuroo goes on to kiss every little part of your head and neck while he slips his hands under your sweater and your shirt to feel your skin directly. Your body tenses up when he’s got his palms right on all those stretch marks and that beloved “spare tire” you sport around your belly. Like someone’s just breached your fanfiction history, you snap your arms down to grab a hold of his wrists, halting whatever he’s trying to do.

Hands frozen in his place, he looks down at you again. “Sorry. I can get my hands outta here, if you don’t want me to touch you like this.”

You do. Of course you want him to touch you like there isn’t anything wrong with your body. You want him to keep doing that little rolling motion he does with his thumbs that relaxes your muscles and makes you crave more. And yet, your brain smashes a button to hold up all those defenses you’ve been maintaining for so long. Something lurks in your head, saying that Kuroo’s not going to like any of what he sees once you take your clothes off, or he’s just going to pretend. All of this is still a ruse, a clever trick to get you thinking that you’re wanted—

You hear your name, then feel a warm hand on your cheek.

“Still think I don’t want to do this with you?”

There he goes again, reading your mind that’s been bouncing off the walls for the last few days. Sighing, you nod, tears welling up again when you thought you had already exhausted all of them earlier upon seeing him.

“Shit,” he whispers, more to himself than you, “they really fucked you up.”

“Yeah,” you’re able to croak, blinking away those tears and holding onto the back of his hand on your cheek. “You’re telling me.”

Kuroo kisses just under your eyelids and places his other hand on your neck. He doesn’t look at you for a moment, like he’s trying to search for words to make you feel better. You won’t be surprised if he doesn’t. In a year’s time, he’ll probably run out of all the reassuring things to say. If you two manage to stay together for a year. That’s another negative thought for later. 

“My grandma once told my mom,” he starts, “that people have always been beautiful, even before someone says something. Like, my mom didn’t transform into this beautiful lady when my dad said so when they met. You saw the pictures.”

Indeed you have. Right when you walked through the door and after she handed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate, she automatically whipped out her phone, opening up her Instagram and showing you all those pictures from when she was in college (she attended the same university you and Kuroo go to now), having fun and exploring all of Japan. You’re sure that she’s Kuroo’s mom—always smiling and telling lots of jokes while still being sensible and compassionate. She’s just as irresistible. Although, this is the first and only mention of Kuroo’s dad so far. So where is he?

“Does your dad still call her beautiful?” you ask carefully.

Bad choice. Kuroo does that same sort of sullen look you remember seeing the night of his birthday when you asked about volleyball, smile wiped clean off his face when he shakes his head. “No, but I’m pretty sure he calls his new girlfriend that. Or wife. Fuck if I know.”

Oh, fuck. “Oh. I’m so—”

“But that’s the thing, you know?” he says, picking up again. “My mom didn’t turn ugly or anything like that when he left. I still thought she was pretty. Lots of people still thought she was pretty. It’s just—a ton of people royally fuck people over so they can’t see any of that anymore, and then they need other people to  _ make sure _ that they look good. It’s bullshit.”

At this point, Kuroo’s right next to you, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. You turn on your side, watching his face contort and spill out everything you’ve never heard him speak about before. Usually, it’s music and school and asking you questions about fanfiction and math. This is the first you’ve ever heard about his family and this sudden insight about why he’s doing his best to be a good person. It’s endearing and kind of sad, but you hold his hand and listen to him, anyway.

“The same shit is happening to you,” he continues, turning his head towards you worriedly. “I hate it.”

“You hate that I have to keep making you make me realize that I’m pretty?”

“ _ No. _ ” He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath, the hair on his forehead brushing against your face. “I hate that your family is distorting how you see yourself.”

“Heh.” You close your eyes with him, coming in closer as tears flow freely down your cheeks at this point. “It was never just my family, Kuroo. I think I’m an easy target for all that shit.”

“I know.”

This isn’t exactly how you planned out your first time—crying with your boyfriend over how fucked up people can be about body image and self-esteem. It all has to stem from somewhere. TV, other fucked up people, whatever. The world isn’t a perfect place. It’s far from it. That perfect boyfriend slot machine doesn’t really exist. Kuroo may be incredible, but now you have some idea that he’s had his own battles to fight, too.

You’ve both been through some things.

But at least you have each other.

Kuroo wipes away your tears again, kissing you over and over like somehow the physical affection can stop the pain. A valiant effort, but no dice. They do stop, though, and you go back to returning his kisses and tugging his hand so he can crawl back on top of you.

“I want to,” you say softly, pushing back the bangs on his forehead so you can see all of him. “I’m really scared, but I want to.”

Kuroo smiles when he realizes what you’re talking about and adjusts himself so that his knees rest between your legs and he can dip back down to kiss you deeply, igniting those fires again and continuing what you two started before being interrupted by life. Life is gross like that sometimes. Manageable, but gross.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers between kisses. “I’m going to make you feel so good. So good, kitten. I promise.”

When Kuroo’s tongue slips inside your mouth, you moan softly, your own tongue sweeping over his while you lift your hips up slightly on impulse. You’re not as tense when Kuroo toys with the idea of getting his hands under your clothes again, although he’s more hesitant. Because of that, you guide his hands to that huge insecurity zone, letting him feel those stretch marks and uneven skin you’ve been shamed for in the past. He pulls away, breath heavy as he continues to massage you there.

“Cute,” he laughs softly when you mewl at each little knead. “Do you want to take off your sweater and your shirt for me? I’m not gonna keep kissing just your face and your neck.”

After a deep breath, you nod. Taking your time, you wiggle your way out of your sweater and toss it on his bedroom floor, leaving you in a white shirt with a few unflattering holes. If you had known you were going to finally get it on with Kuroo, you would have dressed a little more decently. Matched your bra and underwear, shaved completely,  _ not _ wear a ratty old shirt under your warm sweater.

It doesn’t matter since Kuroo gently pulls it upwards and you take it off, as well. The bra you’re wearing isn’t your favorite color; hell, it feels like something you’d wear around the house because you’re so self-conscious about your nipples peeking through your shirt if it’s cold. Kuroo makes it obvious again that he doesn’t care, pressing his lips to your chest and rubbing your sides so delicately that you feel like you’re some art form that Kuroo is creating with the magic of his hands. One of them comes around to the back of your bra, to which he looks up at you from your chest and asks sweetly, “May I?”

You nod.

His eyes don’t leave your body when he unhooks your bra in one fluid motion, letting you pull it off when you’re ready, at your own pace. Once it joins the clothes on his floor, you shut your eyes, unwilling to watch him react.

An agonizing second passes before warm hands make their way to your breasts. Like he’s been doing with the rest of your body, he goes nice and slowly, pressing kisses to your collarbone when you start making little noises of affection.

“Feels good?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You open your eyes to find a mess of black hair in front of you, lips to the tops of your breasts and moving down slightly so that you feel them surround one nipple. It only takes one little suck for you to yelp and say his name.

It’s almost infuriating that he knows how to work his tongue so well, sliding over sensitive skin and feeling that little ball rub over your nipples. They’re definitely at attention when he comes back up and he pulls off his own sweater and shirt, finally showing you the body you’ve been dreaming about since you’ve met him.

“Holy shit,” you mumble.

Kuroo blushes and it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. “I know, right? I’m pretty hot.”

You giggle and raise your hands to his abdomen, taking more time to look at all those details you’ve never seen before. The tattoo sleeve on his right arm extends into his chest and over his shoulder, bright flowers and fish decorating his skin. The orchids on his waist are tucked away at this angle, but the most striking (or, really, most surprising) thing about seeing him shirtless is the set of barbells piercing both his nipples.

“You don’t want your dick pierced,” you say as you tug him back down and let your hands roam up to his chest, “but you got little bars going across your nipples.”

“What, you don’t like ‘em?” Kuroo feigns disappointment, taking your fingers and putting them right over those piercings. “Keep it to yourself. They’re sensitive.”

You could smack him right now for his wordplay, but you favor following his fingers and sliding over his nipples, watching him shudder and bite his lip in that really sexy, magazine cover way that keeps you from paying attention when you do anything. It’s kind of fun when you do it to someone else. You don’t think you look this sexy when you play with your own nipples, but you like to think you are.

When that gets a little repetitive, you and Kuroo go back to kissing each other, his hands wandering down to your jeans and hooking his fingers around the belt loops. His kisses sink down again, between your breasts and over your stomach, over your stretch marks that disappear beneath your jeans. His legs are over the edge of his bed at this point, cheek resting on your thigh.

“Baaaaaaby,” he drones, “I really wanna eat you out.”

“Shit.” You try to look away from him staring at you like he just asked for ramen instead of giving you head, but it’s hard to do when he looks  _ that  _ good in between your legs. Now all you have to do is get the rest of your clothes off. “Please, Kuroo.”

“I’ve been thinking about doing it since you told me.” He unbuttons and unzips your jeans, then peels them off of you while you close your eyes again, afraid of his reaction even though you know (for the most part) that he isn’t doing anything wrong. In fact, he kisses up your thighs, including the stretch marks there, and spreads your legs a little wider, steering clear of your panties. For now.

Your breath is steady until it falters when you feel his mouth close around your covered pussy, your moan loud as you reach for his hair in one hand and his sheets in the other.  _ Holy fuck _ that was amazing. He didn’t even take off your panties yet. Is that what it really feels like to have someone’s mouth on you? Is that why  _ everyone _ with a vagina begs to be eaten out?

Kuroo laughs and gently pulls your hand out of his hair so he can comfortably curl his fingers around the waistband of your panties. “Easy, kitten. Save your voice for when I actually shove my tongue inside you.”

“You’re going to kill me,” you breathe, tilting back when you feel your panties slide down your legs and completely off.

And now here you are. Totally naked and on full display for Kuroo. Your heart beats like a drum, skin oversensitive and nerves on edge. Your brain is battling it out—arousal versus anxiety. Arousal seems to be winning. In spite of being absolutely vulnerable at this moment, you can’t wait for all those fantasies to come true, to come to life in this warm little bedroom with the smell of lavender and—

Your thoughts are wiped blank when Kuroo licks you, long and slow and right to your clit. You cry out in the most pleasure you’ve ever felt since having his fingers inside of you, grabbing his hair once more. This time, Kuroo doesn’t resist. He works that magic of his, that tongue that knows exactly where to lick and stimulate all those nerves you didn’t know you had. Your other hand goes to play with your breasts, the stimulation spreading throughout your body like wildfire.

Kuroo’s tongue makes its way inside your pussy and you have no clue how you’re going to last when he’s got something  _ bigger _ to shove inside you. Your moan is exponentially louder, your grip so tight you feel as if you’re going to rip his hair off. This feels so much better than reading it in words, than watching it in pictures and videos. The sensation is heavenly, and even more so when his tongue (and that damned holiday stud) finds your clit and he uses his mouth to suck. Your virgin self can’t last through this any longer when he uses his tongue and his piercing to feel all of that soaked skin and muscle.

He’s barely got a finger halfway inside you, mouth back on your clit and sucking when you come suddenly, bouncing on his bed and crying out his name like a prayer. You pull his hair and keep his face (and finger) buried between your legs, an orgasm pulsing through for his and your enjoyment. Your breath heaves and your head falls back onto the bed, words reduced to incoherent mumbles of how good that feels and how much you loved it.

Little licks replace Kuroo’s relentless tongue-fucking, kissing you clean until you let him go and he comes back up to kiss you on the lips. The taste of you on his tongue is like some variation of something wonderful—a new kind of wonderful that you want to experience over and over again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he mumbles against your lips, then kisses you again.

While the two of you tie your tongues and moan down each other’s throats, your hand wanders between his legs this time, feeling that bulge in his pants that you’ve been wanting to touch again. He’s rock hard under his jeans, waiting for your touch and aching for more friction. Kuroo mindlessly humps your hand for a moment until he pulls away to start pulling off the rest of his clothes. Those aftershocks from him going down on you remain, your little noises making him nearly fall off the bed when he pulls his jeans off.

“Do you need help?“ you ask with a giggle.

“Don’t worry, I got this,” he answers with a smirk, grabbing his cock over his underwear and pointing to the nightstand right by your head. “Be a good girl and hand me a condom, please?”

When you turn, there are two small packages sitting next to the candles. After you pluck one and toss it over to Kuroo, you also take off your glasses and set them aside. It doesn’t take 20/20 vision to see your boyfriend in all his glory. You could be blind and know that he’s hot. 

Kuroo takes the time to make sure there isn’t any damage to the condom, holding it towards the lamplight and making sure there aren’t any holes or rips or anything of the sort. That’s great and endearing at all, but you’re wet and waiting and a teensy bit impatient.

“Tetsu~” you purr. It’s not often you say his given name, and now is a good time as any. It seems to work, given that his cock visibly twitches and he looks up at you with darker, hungrier eyes.

“Patience, kitten. You’re going to need it when I fuck you like an animal.”

That’s probably not going to be the case tonight, but it still makes you moan. Kuroo takes his time and hovers over you, letting you hold onto his cock and guiding him inside as slowly as you need it to be. The tip sinks in with ease and Kuroo pushes in the rest of the way, watching you for any signs of discomfort.

In the midst of that stretching and slightly-off tingling sensation, it’s absolute pleasure between your legs. You hold onto his shoulders and moan into his ear, nails latching onto hard skin and letting your body get used to the feel of him inside of you.

And in that tiny time period, you think about that. This is that moment. Kuroo Tetsurou, this total hunk with tattoos and piercings and a conscience for the hurt, is a real person who cares about you. All of you, including the physical features and hobbies you tend to hide from the rest of the world. In some respects, you’re lucky. So, so lucky.

Kuroo is nearly all the way inside of you when he stops and gives you several kisses. “How does that feel? Am I hurting you?”

“No. You feel good,” you answer right away. “So, so good, Kuroo. Fuck me—”

He smiles and holds onto your hips, beginning to thrust slowly and into a rhythm that makes your body start to boil. Your nails dig deeper into his shoulders, your breaths becoming moans and your moans becoming pleas to go faster and harder. Kuroo is a master at pressing himself into your pussy, the head of his cock searching for that sweet spot that’ll make you scream. It’s not long before he slams the entirety of his length inside your tight, wet heat. Your legs lift from the mattress and you lock your ankles a few inches under his ass, arching back and baring your neck for him to bite and kiss all over again. You’ll look like a goddamn mess when you come home, but that’s the last thing on your mind right now.

“Perfect pussy,” Kuroo mumbles in your ear. “You’re such a good girl for taking my cock so well.”

On one particular thrust, your eyes shoot open and you really do scream his name.You hold on tighter, fingers digging deep into his skin when he gets the signal and pounds into you faster. You clench around him and get so, so close to coming, completely losing yourself when he releases one of your hips to rub your clit in tight circles that send your nerves into an erotic frenzy.

“You’re so beautiful like this. All for me. Come on, baby. Come on my cock.”

His thrusts and his fingers combined lead you to scratch down his back when you come, moaning up to the sex gods who have blessed Kuroo to take your virginity. Your hips move erratically as he looks on with a lustful grin, letting you move as you please to enjoy your orgasm as much as possible. 

Kuroo’s orgasm arrives not long after yours, his own groans and utterances of your name keeping you whining and encouraging him. And you thought you wouldn’t be able to speak after being fucked like that. You’re a capable, good girl.

“Tetsu,” you breathe, “I want to feel you come, too.”

His hips snap hard inside you, moans low and thick against your lips when he fills the condom. While you (unfortunately) can’t feel yourself being filled, the sensation feels all the same to you—pure ecstasy, like it’ll be addicting to feel this way all the time. The two of you are still now after he milks himself to the last drop, nothing but heavy breaths between your mouths and the sheets rustling when he moves and kisses you slowly and with a smile.

It’s like that for a while, to your surprise. Kuroo doesn’t say anything when he kisses you again then pulls out of you, leaving you disappointed that you feel a little emptier. When he turns around to dispose of the condom, you blink a few times and snatch your glasses off the nightstand to get a better look at that mark on his ass. What Bokuto said was absolutely true—on his left cheek, there’s a small head of a grey cat with razor sharp teeth and white, threatening circles for eyes. You mutter an “oh my god” and smile to yourself, setting your glasses back off to the side and totally amused, not mortified, at what was a probably a really impulsive tattoo.

Kuroo notices right away when he returns to your side, draping his arm over your stomach and kissing your cheek. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply innocently.

He pinches the cheek he just kissed. “Come on now, kitten, spit it out.”

“Stop,” you giggle, tapping his fingers away. “Your cat tattoo is cute.”  
“Oh.” He blushes and laughs with you. “I lost a bet with Bokuto last year. Apparently, I underestimated his ability to eat huge amounts of barbecue in one sitting.”

“That was foolish of you.”

“I know. Akaashi said the same thing.”

You smile wide, giving him a kiss and growing more used to being naked with him. It’s still a little more preferable for you to have some clothes on, but you can’t complain right now. You’re warm and in some post-sex giddiness that nobody else could have ever achieved with you.

“How are you feeling?” Kuroo asks. “I didn’t hurt you, I?”

“No, not at all. That felt good. Really good.”

“Good.” He brushes the hair out of your face, detangling the little strands that got all caught up in you two having sex. “I always aim to please my little kitten.”

You giggle again and hide your face in his neck. “You are, like, the king of being cheesy.”

“I thought you liked cheese.”

“In a burger, you idiot.” Although, your mention of burgers and Kuroo’s earlier mention of barbecue actually leaves your stomach growling. It makes a strange noise for attention, which the two of you hear after a beat of silence. “Shit, I’m...I’m kinda hungry.”

“You are?” It’s like Kuroo just heard you say you won the lottery. “I’ll heat us up some stuff. What do you want? I need to figure out all your post-sex cravings now.”

Your blush deeply and smack his chest, hiding your face in his pillow this time when you don’t admit right away that you want to eat everything in his fridge.

 

You get to live every girl’s dream by stealing some of Kuroo’s clothes while he grabs some food. You opt for his sweater, black cotton that smells like him sticking to your skin. It falls just above the curve of your ass, which is a little unfortunate since you can’t walk around the apartment in  _ just _ his sweater and be considered mostly decent. Shortly after Kuroo approves of you letting you borrow more of his clothes when he notices, you find a drawer dedicated to shorts and sweats. As expected, everything is carelessly stuffed, although you see some effort in the form of half-folded shirts in another drawer. You don’t really mind the mess at all, though, when you find a cute pair of dark, running short shorts that fit your thighs just right. You start to wiggle in them and grin to yourself before Kuroo pops in and holds you by the waist, bending down to kiss you and smile.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” he muses. “Comfortable?”

“Very.” You turn around and wrap your arms around him, more than glad that he didn’t put on a shirt (yet) and decided to make you food in his candy cane boxer briefs. “Is dinner ready?”

“Yup. My microwaving skills are on point today.”

You laugh and press your cheek to his chest as he pets your hair. “When I’m not escaping my family, maybe you can make me something better than whatever you nuked.”

“Hey,” he says firmly, “fried chicken is good in any condition. Even microwaved.”

“Ehh.”

“No arguing, young lady. Do I have to punish you?”

You look up at him and pout. “You’ve already got me walking weird. I don’t want my ass to hurt when I get home.”

That statement makes Kuroo smirk, coming down to kiss you again while he’s got a cheeky hand on your ass. It’ll be something to explore in the future—exciting as it is, it’s a little much for one night. Plus, you’re a little pressed for time.

It takes a few more moments before you two break away from each other. Kuroo gets a shirt on before you both make your way to the dining table. Microwaved fried chicken isn’t the best, but you’re starving and it tastes good enough, especially after your first time. You’re pretty sure Kuroo could feed you garbage and you’d still eat it. However you look at it, his sentiment is all the same. He checks on you frequently for approval and he makes sure you’re totally satiated before you get back in your clothes, ready to head out.

If only you could spend the night with him. Take your time making dinner, watching a movie while you two talk over dumb dialogue, showering together without the pressure of sex. By the time you turn on and check your phone on the way out of the apartment complex, it’s flooded with a thousand unread messages and missed calls from various relatives at your house. Some messages sound more sincere than others, but you’re ready to go home and face whatever music will be pounded into your ears. You tuck your head in his neck on the train ride home, reading through the texts of apologies and stupid puns one of your cousins tried to send you to make you feel better.

“At least they’re trying,” Kuroo says when you show him a longer message from your mom. It’s littered with errors and you can still feel the aura of “it’s still your own fault that this happened,” but you get that she’s doing her best to get you back home.

“‘Trying’ is a strong word,” you mumble, “but sure.”

“Look, my dad had no intention of apologizing to my mom when he bullied her,” he says bitterly. “Consider yourself lucky.”

As if you accidentally opened up a wound he closed up long ago, you frown and hold him tighter. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to bring it up.”

He shakes his head and holds you tighter. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

Silence. The train is sparse at this time in the evening, so you both have some room on the bench to move. Although neither of you wants to pull away from each other.

“I was seven,” he says softly. “The walls were thin at my old house, so even when I hid in my room, I could hear them yelling. I was such a dumb kid. After he left that night, I asked my mom what all those words meant. Ugly. Bitch. Sloppy seconds.”

You feel guilty for snorting but he smiles with you. “Yeah. I didn’t get it. Like, everything seemed fine until he started coming home really late most nights and he spent less time talking to me. My mom had to get my grandma to pick me up from school, and she was old as hell. Lady’s like a skeleton now.”

“Don’t be rude,” you quip as you poke his chest.

“It’s cool, baby. One time she told Bokuto to stop flirting with her because she was happily married, and that my grandpa would rise from the grave if he tried anything on her.”

You laugh some more and look up at him, kissing his cheek. “Shame I didn’t get to meet her.”

“Oh, you will. Are you doing anything over spring break?”

The conversation continues for that next hour and a half on the train. You learn more about Kuroo’s family and you tell more about your own, flipping through pictures on your phones and stories of how they were either bags of dicks or sort of cool. Neither of your families has ever been explicitly brought up in the time you two have known each other. With good reasons, you suppose. Kuroo’s kindness and understanding of you and many other people make so much more sense, now. Granted, he’s still no perfect boyfriend who can read every situation like a book, but for everything else, you’re grateful. So, so grateful.

Kuroo doesn’t even leave you at the train station when you two arrive in Sendai. It’s too late to be walking home alone, he scolds you. The moon’s up high and it’s cold and dark and it would be a better idea to not have him walk you right towards the front yard of your house, but here he is, illuminated by ugly streetlights and his own, lovely smile.

“Thank you,” you tell him for about the thousandth time tonight. “I don’t think I would have gotten through today without you.”

He acts bashful, curling in on himself and awwing like a child. “You’re only saying that because you totally had the time of your life in my bed.”

You punch him in the arm. “Seriously, you asshole. Thanks.” 

You can see your breath when you turn and look towards your house. The lights are still on and you know everyone is still awake. Probably drinking or enjoying their presents or waiting for you to come home. You’re about to take a step forward when Kuroo takes your hand and keeps you in your place. His fingers, for some reason, shake in your own. It’s your turn to scold him for not bringing gloves, but his eyes say something that definitely isn’t signifying his body temperature. Or maybe it is.

“I love you.”

Nothing could have ever prepared you for that. Your heart stops and your blood grows ten degrees colder, as if you froze from the inside out. How...how are you supposed to react to this? Nobody has ever told you those three words, those three, wildly important words you’ve been wanting to hear all your life from someone you love back. Those words that turn a whole story upside down or nail it on the head or make your own heart clench as if they were being said to you. Except this is real life. This is absolutely, totally real, not something written in fiction for fictional characters.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a while now. I thought you heard me the first time you stayed in my dorm but I guess you fell asleep.”

Holy shit.

He loves you. Kuroo Tetsurou loves you. 

The only reaction you’re able to elicit after hearing what he said is to cry. Straight-up sniffle and burst into tears because it’s still so scary but so good and you pray to every god that might exist in this universe that he’ll always feel this way about you—not some crybaby charity case in which he’s the hero riding in on the white horse, but a struggling person who just so happens to have stolen his own heart with her wit and beauty. It’s difficult to see most times, but you’ve definitely made your mark on him, no matter how weird you believe that is. 

This is better than anything you’ve ever read.

It’s real. 

And you love him, too.

You don’t give a flying fuck when your relatives watch you through the windows of your house, kissing him through your tears and whispering an “I love you” back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND SO CONCLUDES THE END OF THE FIRST PART OF TR3!!!
> 
> I'm going to take a short break from this story—I have a commission I've been neglecting (yikes) and I have school to focus on, which is starting up again very soon! Hopefully, I can work on this during the semester, but I aim to start it up again in late spring/early summer in 2017.
> 
> I hope you all have enjoyed this so far, and I wish everyone a fulfilling, beautiful new year.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support. <3


	6. Whip Nips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Valentine's Day, y'all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *breathes*
> 
> I'M BACK MOTHERFUCKERS
> 
> It's been a long, long, time, and I'm sorry I didn't crank this out sooner. I have some plans for the second half of TR3 and I hope you all can continue to be patient with me. Thank you so, so much for holding on and I hope you enjoy the opening to another round of emotions and sexy times and Kuroo being an absolute dork with reader!
> 
> Special thanks to [lowcarbzeros](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lowcarbzeros) for beta reading and for the encouragement.

You shouldn’t feel nervous going up the elevator to his dorm. You’ve got a box full of nail polish and a bag full of junk food.

This is supposed to be fun.

On any other day, maybe, it should be, but this isn’t any other day.

You haven’t spoken to Kuroo in a week.

Anxiety had hit you like a truck and you need to remind yourself to buy Nagisa something nice after she’s dealt with you sobbing for hours on end and thinking life is completely over and you’ve been right the whole damn time. Tonight, hopefully, that will prove things wrong. All it took were a few short text messages to come over. No smiley faces, no emojis, no sarcasm. You try not to think about the period he put at the end of “okay.”

Another deep breath and you exit the elevator. The hall is more haunting for some reason, like you haven’t been here for decades instead of a week. There are posters that are wishing students to have a great summer, to be safe, to sign up for room preferences next year as soon as they return. As colorful and lively as they are, they come off more eerie. But you look straight ahead and make a turn to knock on the door.

You count to ten and you think he won’t answer. Or Bokuto might be in there convincing him to answer. You haven’t been talking to him, either, like somehow you’re back to being so alone and the only person you can sort of talk to is your roommate who’s only there for about ten percent of the time. Really, though. A new contour kit for her would work. Or another eyeshadow palette. She’s been talking about one based on elements. Fire? Or water could work.

All thoughts stop when Kuroo opens the door. The dark circles under his eyes are blatant indicators of his lack of sleep from studying for finals. There’s a sort of pout he’s currently sporting that’s either arousing or annoying. You’re not sure. You keep your eyes on him instead of his arms completely on display thanks to the sleeveless t-shirt he’s got on. It’s getting warmer and that calls for you to suppress even more bad thoughts. 

“Hey,” he says.

You swallow hard. “Hey. I bought the chips. And some chocolate.”

“Cool. You got black nail polish?”

“Of course.” You half-smile when his pout disappears and he opens the door wider. He’s alone. “Um. Did you grab drinks?”

“Soda for me and water for you.”

“Thanks.” You hesitate to step inside when you suddenly blurt, “You should be drinking water too, you know.”

“I have been, baby. Gimme a break.”

Your stomach flips then drops fast. He’s still mad at you, probably. You don’t remember the last time you’ve actually gotten into an argument with someone, let alone your first boyfriend. Is he still your boyfriend or are you just overreacting? Have you two been reduced to friends? Or friends with benefits? You’re not sure how that works, like a lot of things.

“Hey.”

You blink a few times and bring yourself back to his attention. He steps forward, brings his hands up to your cheeks, and brushes just under your eyes and glasses like he knows you’re ready to cry in front of him. You’re not one to beg for forgiveness, but you could if you have the courage.

“I still love you, you know.”

Your breath catches. “You do?”

He says your name so quietly and brings you in to kiss your forehead. “Of course. I’m not gonna dump you because you’re trying to help me get my shit together.”

“But I—” the conversation comes back to you at full force and you choke up, “I was such a dick to you.”

“So was I. We can be the dick couple.”

You snort. “Tetsu.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get in here. I wanna hold you.”

He finally guides you inside, the familiar smell of vanilla and lavender filling your nose as his favorite band plays a ballad through his laptop speakers. You slip your shoes off and set the items on his bed. Before you’re able to think of anything else, Kuroo grabs your hands and pulls you to his chest, hugging you tightly enough that your glasses press into your face.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

Just hearing his apology is enough to make you cry. “I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

“I know you mean well.” He kisses the top of your head. “I’m gonna do better. I promise.”

You pull away from him, adjusting your glasses and sniffling before you look up and stand on your toes to give him a kiss. He kisses back and your nerves wake up from a weeklong hibernation. God, you missed this, and you have no idea if this is normal or if this should be the way to make up, but you like it. A lot.

“Okay,” you say once you get your tears out of the way and your vision isn’t so blurred, “what other color would you want on your nails besides black?”

 

***

 

“Nagisa,” you whine, “this is dumb. He’s just gonna take off the stuff anyway and we’ll—uhh—”

“Fuck?” Nagisa finishes with a grin as she pops up from one of the racks. 

You grumble and turn away from her, arms folded. “I mean, ugh, just—”

She says your name and skips from around the rack and jostles your shoulder. This should be some form of exciting to you, but you’re not really one to enter a store boasting models with hourglass figures, showing off the latest trend in ladies’ underwear. You know damn well that none of this is real and it’s all just a product of capitalism and the world’s vendetta against women, but it’s not easy to overcome. Nagisa shakes you some more.

“You gotta wear something nice for him!” she reminds you. “He liked that dress on your first date, right?”

You remember that fondly. The museum, the bar, the first kiss in the morning. You find yourself looking dumber when you blush, especially when Nagisa catches you and she beams. “See? Now you just gotta find something that  _ you _ like and he’ll like it, too.”

“You’re not making any sense, y’know.”

“When have I ever?” She kisses your cheek. “Now what are ya into? Lace? G-strings? Ooh, I think I some some crotchless ones over here—”

It’s an adventure navigating the store when Nagisa bounces all over the place. Another reason why you hate coming to stores like this is because of how ridiculously priced the products are. Why would you want to spend all this money on the tiniest pieces of cloth that are supposed to cover your junk? A new bra would be a smart investment in the long run, but panties? You really don’t have to shop at the mall for that.

But you humor Nagisa and pick out a few pairs that might be suitable for the upcoming occasion. She nearly catches everyone’s attention with her squealing about the patterns you picked, and you’re ready to dart out of here with some new underwear. It’s good for your head, you think.

You’re not done yet, though. Some of the panties have matching bras, while the others don’t and you have free reign to pick one in that same color palette or something. Or you could pick a neutral bra and call it a day. As much as you’d prefer to not buy a bra and stick with the one you’re wearing, an old thing with the wire uncomfortably poking your skin, you take a deep breath and make the investment. It’s supposed to be a good one, you say in your head, and this will be a good opportunity to make sure you’re getting the right bra size.

Lo and behold, the bra you’ve been wearing has been too small. You grab a size up and take the plain black one, suitable for any pair of panties you pick. To make sure the bra fits comfortably, you step into a dressing room and turn away from the mirror immediately, shedding your sweater and your shirt and your tank top before your bra. You’re glad Nagisa’s occupied with some of the more adventurous pieces of clothing in the store; she’s witnessed a lot of your breakdowns within a semester and you’d rather not let her see the one involving a dressing room and trying on clothes.

The bra fits. That’s all. It’s comfortable and with some more adjustments to the straps, you shouldn’t have any problems with the fit or the wires or bent hooks for a while. But does it look good?

You don’t know. Turning around and looking in the mirror is dangerous. There’s nothing good to see there. Kuroo’s going to tell you that he’ll love you no matter what you wear and that’s what you’ve got going for you right now. Confirming for the third time that this bra fits, you take it off and get your clothes back on quickly. You decide on a pair of red boyshorts with lace trim to wear for Kuroo, and grab the same style with cartoon cats printed on it for yourself. The bra and panties combined was your entire budget for Valentine’s Day. As cute as the shopping bag is for the store, you hunch your back when you leave with Nagisa.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. “I thought you liked the stuff you picked out!”  
“I do,” you say, looking away from the food stands and ignoring your growling stomach, “but now I have no money for chocolate.”

“You know you’re supposed to make it, right?” She groans and slumps with you, then smirks, “Kuroo-san’s not your friend or your brother. Ooh, but maybe he’s your da—”

“Don’t.” You nudge her with your shoulder and try not to think about asking Kuroo how he feels about  _ that _ . “I don’t even know how to make chocolate, anyway. Plus, it’s not like we have a working stove in our dorm.”

“Hmph. You’ve got me there,” she says, tapping her chin and tilting her head up. In a second, she gasps and pivots to stand in your way, smiling wide. You don’t trust it.

“What?”

“I have an idea.”

 

The day arrives and you think you’re going to throw up. Kuroo and Bokuto are currently at the gym, but soon after the two of you will have the evening to yourselves. That’s good, since you’ll be spending the whole afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to wear over the nice undergarments you bought. You should have shopped for a new dress, you suppose. Yet that would have required more shopping with Nagisa and more time in the dressing rooms avoiding mirrors and glances from anyone who could easily find their size on the racks. Here you are again in this familiar situation, throwing clothes on your bed while Nagisa sorts through her makeup collection, which has grown in size since the holidays.

“We should do red like last time,” Nagisa says while you contemplate going to his place in some sweatpants and a massive t-shirt. “Ooh, no, what about pink? That’s super flirty and it’ll really stick out you give him...kisses.”

You’re holding onto a hoodie that feels a size too small when you turn around and scowl at Nagisa. “Can we do something, like, more subtle? I’m allowing you to put makeup on me for tonight but you’re not gonna pull that first date crap.”

“But Kuroo liked it, didn’t he?”

“That’s not the point,” you counter. “He’s gonna say he likes what I do no matter what, so I’m going to do what  _ I  _ want to my face.”

Nagisa’s eyes widen and she stares at you like you just smashed one of her expensive foundation bottles. Either that, or she’s more proud of your courage to take some charge of your date tonight. A tense minute passes before she turns back and quickly shuffles through her things, pulling out a palette and a lipstick color that perfectly compliments your skin tone. “Nudes.”

You raise an eyebrow and throw the hoodie off to your bed. “Nudes?”

“Nudes!” she repeats. “If you want subtle, you go with nudes. It’ll be like...the no-makeup makeup look!”

“Uhhh.” You shrug and turn back to your closet. It’s not bright red or pink, so that’s a start. “Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

Nagisa rattles on about how nude colors would be classy with a plain black outfit. Surprisingly, it’s sound advice. Despite her protests to look more lively for a lively holiday, you go with a simple black dress you can put a sweater over, along with some stockings that don’t have holes to cover your legs. Nagisa complains that you look like you’re going to a funeral, but you tune her out when you put on some silver accessories so you don’t look like you’re having a very goth Valentine’s Day. It’s doable, and with the makeup she puts on you, you’re all dressed up and ready for your first Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend.

“You’re so sexy!” she gushes. “Do you have everything with you?”

You open up your purse for what’s probably the third time and check for all of tonight’s needs. “Yup. I...I hope he’s into this.”

“He will be. He’s a hungry boy.”

You huff, but set all your exasperations aside to give Nagisa a hug. “Thanks for everything.”

She hums in response and lets you go, beaming like you’re her firstborn daughter off to graduate from Valentine’s Day Planning College. Your stomach turns uncontrollably when you leave her, but you dig through the discomfort to find some confidence and reassurance that Kuroo is going to want you no matter what tonight.

 

The room glows red and plays soft smooth jazz that’s about as cheesy as it can get. As soon as Kuroo locks the door, he gets his hands and lips on you, pressing into the swell of your hips as you kiss back and nearly forget about the things you want to try with him tonight.

Dinner couldn’t have been more perfect. Kuroo knows you well enough that you like to eat as much as he does, though you’re a lot more subdued and self-conscious about it. With that in mind, the table he reserved for you two sat all the way in the corner, away from everyone else while you enjoyed yourselves. If that wasn’t enough, here you are now in some love hotel miles away from campus, absolutely ready to be filthy (even if you’re nervous about it all).

“I need you,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re all I want, baby.”

You gasp and catch your breath, your head already cloudy with the thought of Kuroo all over you for the rest of tonight. As your bag bumps into the door and his tongue works his way into your mouth, piercing and all, and you’re reminded of what you wanted to bring up. Softly, you peck his lips and say, “I want to try something.”

He pulls back and stares you down, eyes wide and willing like you’re about to pull out an entire set of kinky paraphernalia out of your purse. You two have talked time and again about the things you like and the things you want to explore, although what you pull out in particular isn’t something you two have brought up seriously.

From your purse you present to him a small container of melted chocolate, along with a can of whipped cream. You shrug as you hold them, unsure where to place the items in case he’s not up for a little food play. “Uh,” you say, “I couldn’t really make any chocolate for you, but I was thinking you could...eat it off of me?”

Kuroo stares at you, and for a moment you’re worried he’s going to leave this hotel room and never come back. It passes quickly, though, and he steps back towards you to kiss you hard. Does chocolate really turn him on? You don’t know, but you’re about to find out.

“Bed. Now.”

It happens quickly. Kuroo grabs the chocolate and whipped cream to toss on the bed while you follow him closely, kicking your shoes off and taking off your jacket before he goes back to kissing you and squeezing your hips. He squeezes hard enough to elicit a moan out of you, then nudges you with enough force so that you land in the middle of the mattress. It’s...soft, you conclude, too soft for your own liking, but it’s better than fucking on the floor, you suppose.

You blink and you already feel the air of the room hit your legs when Kuroo slides your stockings down. There’s no time for you to even breathe and your impulses yell at you to grab him by the shoulders and completely stop what he’s doing.

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo asks, immediately relaxing with your touch. “Am I going too fast?”

“Yeah,” you say after an awkward second. “Does chocolate turn you on  _ that _ much?”

“No,” Kuroo says, huffing. He settles between your legs, sitting on his knees and grabbing the container to toss around in his hands. “Honestly, I was thinking we’d just fuck in every position until we fall asleep. But this...this is different.”

“It’s kinky?”

“Kinda kinky, yeah.” He pops off the lid and that sweetness hits your nose immediately. Kuroo growls softly and looks down at you, licking his lips. “Be a good girl and take your dress off.”

“Yes sir,” you say, more nonchalantly than submissively. While you get out of your dress, Kuroo dips his pinky into the chocolate for a quick taste. His attention to it doesn’t last long because here you are now donning the lingerie you bought with the help of Nagisa.

Red and black has always been a fitting combination to wow Kuroo. Going to Nekoma helps, but there’s something alluring about the red against your skin, contrasting with the black bra that isn’t as stunning as the lace lining your pelvis. You could swear you hear Kuroo purring at the sight of you, nearly spilling the chocolate right over your stomach. Good thing you caught his arm on time.

“Tetsu! You can lick the chocolate off of me, but I’m not about to turn into a popsicle.”

“Oh? So what are you, then, if you’re giving me all this stuff to lick from you?”

You scrunch your face and shrug. “I don’t know. A human spoon?”

Kuroo snorts and leans forward, carefully dripping a thin stream of chocolate down your stomach. It’s not the most exciting, in your opinion (in fact it’s kind of sticky), but Kuroo seems to be into it. “You look beautiful, you know. I like these panties.”

You turn red and cover your face. “Tetsu.”

“Hey kitten,” he says in that tone you know is going to sound scolding but he’s far from picking on you, “what do we say?”

You sigh and drop your hands back to your sides. “Thank you.”

“Good girl.” He finally settles on his stomach, nestled between your legs to experimentally lick your belly. “You know I’ve never done this before either, right?”

You pretend to look surprised, which is a lot more difficult when his tongue hits your skin and he very slowly licks the chocolate off of you. Somehow, it’s sexy. “Wow, I thought Sex God Kuroo Tetsurou would have done every kink by the ripe old age of twenty.”

“Hah.” He finishes licking the chocolate, making sure your skin is as clean as he found it before grabbing the can of whipped cream and shaking it when he sits up again. “Now take off your bra, baby. What are your thoughts on whip nips?”

This is absolutely nowhere near what you were thinking was going to happen tonight. Embarrassed for him, you whine and turn over slightly as you cover your face for an entirely different reason. “You’re a fucking loser. How did I ever think you were hot?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Now come on. Lemme play with your tits, yeah?”

You let him. Whipped cream on your nipples is something you’re up for experiencing again, since it’s a wonderful excuse for Kuroo to use his pierced tongue in a new way. The only caveat to the sweets that they’re only good for a short amount of time, but that little window is more than enough for the two of you to get in the mood for something sweeter.

“Fuck,” he murmurs after licking the last off your nipple. They’re both peaked and sensitive after all that licking and you can’t help but pull the neglected one and moan for more.

“Did you like it?” you ask, squirming up.

Kuroo nods breathlessly as he takes off his shirt, nipple piercings and tattoos in full, glorious view. “But I think I know some things that taste better than chocolate and whipped cream.”

Your pussy clenches and Kuroo gets right to work.

Chocolate and whipped cream aside, your glasses are set off to the side table while your bare body basks in the red neon light. Kuroo grabs you by the hair and lifts your head from the mattress, pounding into you while you’re on all fours and your body is ready to give out after coming twice already from his mouth and his fingers. His skin slapping against yours shouldn’t be that hot, but the way your pussy tightens whenever he’s particularly rough says otherwise.

“You like that?” Kuroo growls as he tugs your hair. “Does my good girl like having her hair pulled?”

You choke out a “yes” before moaning, choking out his name and getting closer to coming for a third time. His cock hits you just right, finding that sweet spot inside you and adding onto it when he uses his free hand to rub your clit. You hang your head down and drop to your elbows, yelling into the sheets as you come.

“Oh  _ fuck _ yes,” Kuroo groans, fingers against your scalp and pulling with one more bout of force before he slams inside you, coming into his condom with a shudder and groaning your name. You’ve never heard it so ragged like that, enough to spark some roughness into Kuroo that pays off in the bedroom.

It’s a minute before you two go back to cuddling. You both make your way to the bathroom, also fit for a couple given the huge heart-shaped tub and the shower with the anti-slip bath mat. The tub can be used later since all the two of you want to do now is cuddle in bed, sinking deep into the silky red sheets and sharing the can of whipped cream. Kuroo’s got his arm wrapped around you while his other shakes up the can again.

“Open wide,” he says.

You do so and he shoots a few curls of cream onto your tongue, sweet and airy and the perfect snack between Valentine’s Day celebrating. Yeah, you’re definitely not done with him tonight. After the performance he gave you with his entire body, and the fact that you’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day with another person like this, you’re damn well going to go all out.

“This would be so much better if you were on your knees,” Kuroo comments after he swallows his own mound of sweetness. “This can could be, like, my dick.”

You roll your eyes and flick one of his nipple piercings. He flinches. “You and your ideas.”

“You can’t suppress my creativity, baby! Besides...uh.”

He pauses and you look up at him. “What?”

Kuroo turns away slightly from you and that’s all the more reason now for you to shift and sit on his lap. “Tetsu,” you grumble and take his cheeks so he faces you again. “What?”

“I was thinking...you could put this on my dick and blow me that way?”

Your eyes widen and you sit up a little straighter. Why didn’t you think of this before? Got lost in the kisses, maybe. Or the way he was licking chocolate off his stomach and you didn’t know what else to do when all he wanted to do after that was fuck you from behind. Thanks to some practice, you’ve gotten the hang of using your tongue to get Kuroo off. You’re happy to do that again tonight with the addition of something sweet. Not that he doesn’t taste great already.

“What’s got you all shy all of a sudden?” you ask with a smile. “I’m down to do that.”

“You are?” he perks up some and leans forward to give you a kiss. “Good. Other people thought I was weird whenever I asked them to do it.”

“Really,” you frown. “Deny you a blow job because they didn’t want to put some sugar on your dick?”

“People think it’s weird! Don’t you think it’s weird?”

You scrunch your face and shake your head. “Didn’t I show you that fic about the tentacles?  _ That’s _ weird.”

Kuroo sighs, like somehow he just confessed some dirty dirty kink you had no idea about. You didn’t, but still. It’s better than finding out he was into something you weren’t into. As you give him another kiss, you run your fingers through his hair and pull it gently, just how he likes it. “Come on. Gimme that can. And get on the edge of this bed.”

He grins and bites your lower hip before the two of you start moving. “Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOO B O Y
> 
> Given my busy schedule in these months, I can't tell you guys when the next update will arrive D: 
> 
> BUT!! You bet your pretty faces that I'm going to finish this series no matter what.
> 
> Thanks again for hanging on and I'll see you guys soon! Social media links below so you can drop me a message and yell about the update ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and Kuroo headcanons are always appreciated!<3
> 
> [Tumblr](http://shoujomomo.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](http://twitter.com/iwaizumiii)


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